Are you Gabriella?
by Buffy2204
Summary: A high school romance gone wrong. Gabriella and Troy just don't mix when they first meet but a tragedy brings them together. Sadness clears room for the happiness. It's a bad summary. Read the story and then try and make up a better one :D Troyella.
1. Chapter 1

_I'm not normally sucked into these kind of phads but HSM is so great! fer cryin' out loud. Enjoy the story. I may not finish it cus I'm just doing it to sort out some thoughts and to waste time_. _But if people read I'll consider completing it. Troyella, some Troypay. This is how High School Musical would've turned out if Gabriella was a much darker character and they hadn't met on vacation. Written in Gabriella's point of view. I apologise for mistakes, just point them out and I'll change it. Anyhoo, on with the show._

* * *

"Are you Gabriella?"

The books in my arms went flying as I jumped at the voice. Now I don't want you to get the impression that I'm some kind of spaz that jumps and flinches at any kind of social interaction. It was just the prospect of starting over again in a new and scary environment. It's horrible, my stomach convulses, my hands get sweaty, my legs feel shaky. Basically I'm a twitchy, nauseous, sweaty, shaky mess, put together in the approximation of a teenage girl.

I felt a surge of annoyance for the person who had crept up behind me. Didn't they know that any kind of unexpected noise would send me into a nervous spasm?

Looking back, I wonder how my life would've turned out if I had been in a slightly better mood that day. Would it have been easier or harder for me if I'd just been nice to him? Of course, being the sort of person who never seems to be able to see past what I might have for lunch, I wasn't thinking about the consequences of my temper.

"Don't creep up on someone like that?!" I screamed at the unfortunate boy. I could tell without turning around that he was slightly startled at my reaction to his simple question. I'm ashamed to say that it gave me a grim sense of satisfaction. Being short in stature meant it was hard to appear intimidating let alone make someone scared of you.

"Sorry," he mumbled apologetically. I could hear students laughing at me from the sidelines of the corridors. I felt the blood rush to my cheeks, I was there five minutes and I was already marked as the geeky spaz girl. Just wait until they hear about my grade point average. I'll never have any friends.

I kept my head down, maybe if they didn't get a clear view of my face they'd all just forget about the spazzy new girl. The boy handed me the books I couldn't reach and eventually, after covering my embarrassment by pretending to organise my books into an order in my arms, I felt brave enough to look up. I was met with concerned blue eyes shaded by hair that was way too long and a muscular body that I could just image cheerleaders swooning over. Great. A jock.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

"I'm fine," I said curtly. I don't know why I was being so bitchy that day, it must've been something in my orange juice that morning.

"Great," he smiled. My heart jumped and I felt myself give him a little smirk. I quickly put a stop to that sort of thinking. Jocks were no good. "I'm Troy, are you Gabriella?" he smiled again and I managed not reciprocate and instead put on my best superior face. The people watching began to dissipate as they realised that the show was over.

"Yes,"

"I'm showing you around today," he said. His smile faded at my coldness, I began to miss it instantly. "Do you know where your locker is?"

"No," I said. It had been what I was looking for before this whole incident had begun.

"What number is it?" he asked kindly. The smile had resurfaced and I felt relieved that I hadn't squashed it out of existence.

"251," I replied. It was then that I thought that the sooner I could get rid of Troy the easier my life would become. He was making me feel even more flustered than I already was. And to add insult to injury I was actually caring if I hurt his feelingsor not. Like Jocks had feelings.

"Here," he said and took my books off me, carrying them easily under one arm.

Show-off.

I followed him obediently, taking two steps to every one of his strides. He was so goddam tall. And he needed a haircut. His clothes looked like he got them out of a tramp's wardrobe and he swaggered as if he was king of the school. He probably was. We passed a group of cheerleaders who stopped to flirt, giggle and stare at me in equal amounts. To his credit he did look appropriately awkward at their attention and quickly made the excuse of showing me around to leave.

"They are nice, all the girls are nice here, you'll make friends in no time," he must've picked on my nervousness. Unfortunately, his words did nothing to quell my fears. For the girls may well be nice to him but how they react to me will be a completely different matter. I smiled politely and stayed silent.

After we'd reached my locker and I'd learnt the combination and put everything away, he showed me the gym, the cafeteria, and our homeroom then he brought me to my first lesson. Chemistry. I practically scurried away from him to get into the sanctity of the lab. Boys made me nervous. Boys I liked made me doubly nervous and a bit snappy. Fortunately, I think I confused him enough to make him leave me alone for the rest of my life plus he looked like a kicked puppy when I walked into the classroom without even saying a "see ya later".

I'm not a mean person, I just think it's best for everyone not to have to witness me flirt.

* * *

"Hey!"

I yelped and my books went flying in all directions.

"Sorry!" he apologised before I could hiss and draw my claws. He collected my books and brought them back to my arms with a huge grin on his annoyingly handsome face.

He thought it was funny.

Bastard.

I scowled at him. "You know if the wind blows your face will stay like that," he said.

Why is he talking to me? Why won't he leave me alone?

I ignored him and started walking home again, leaving him standing there. Some boys just don't get the message but Troy got the idea and let me go.

At least that's what I thought. After a while I realised there were too many footsteps to go with how many feet I had. I whipped around. There he was. A few feet back. He grinned and waved and I huffed and brushed the hair out of my face. I spun around and started walking faster.

He started walking faster. It was easier for him. He had longer legs.

Eventually I got frustrated and turned to face him. "What do you want?" I sighed in defeat.

"Can I walk you home?" he chuckled boyishly.

"My house is there," I said pointing to a few doors up.

"Can I walk you to your door?"

"No,"

He frowned slightly. "Can I walk you to your gate?"

"No,"

It had got to the point where I can't remember why I didn't want him hanging around me. There was the jock thing, obviously, but there was something more. I looked at him trying to figure me out and all I saw was him trying to find different ways to chat up the pretty new girl. I'm pretty. I know I am. My mother says it's a gift but I just see it as a curse. I envy the girls with an odd nose or large feet, or a slightly crooked smile. The guys who go out with them have taken the time to see their personality, the guys that I have gone out with in the past have seen me as some kind of shiny accessory. This Troy person couldn't possibly like me for my personality for as far as I was concerned I haven't shown him any yet.

"Can I walk you to that tree?" he indicated to a apple tree sapling a few steps away.

I studied the sapling practically a metre away from my feet. Then studied the grinning idiot in front of me.

"Fine," I said.

"Wait!" he yelled as I made to move. He trotted up so that he was standing beside me. "Ok," and we walked a few steps.

Then we stopped. "Thank you," I said.

"The pleasure was all mine," he said.

I was appalled to hear a giggle escape my mouth. He chuckled, waved and left.

oo


	2. Chapter 2

_Don't people like to review?... It's alright, I won't stoop to begging...PLEASE! Please review my story! cries_

My eyes blinked open in the morning light.

The ceiling was all I saw and, to be honest, I wouldn't mind if that was all I saw today.

I was awake again. For all the energy I had I might as well have been awake all night.

The sun was filtering in through the lace in my curtains, casting dappled patterns against the paintwork, swaying with the breeze that rippled through the fabric.

"Honey?" My mother's soft voice echoed into the room. She creaked open the door and padded over to my bed. The bed dipped as she sat down beside me. "Honey?"

I tore my eyes away from the ceiling and blinked tears out of my eyes. Mom smiled and stroked my hair.

"Are you getting up today?" she asked seriously.

I didn't know. I hadn't any strength left. Nothing to look forward to.

"I can make you breakfast? Would you like pancakes?" she asked. She was trying so desperately, it made me sad. She never asked for a daughter like me. I was as useless as they came.

"No Mom, it's ok. I'm getting up," I whispered.

* * *

I took a deep breath. To anyone who didn't know me this would look weird. I hadn't even opened the front door. I was wearing my shoes, I had my bag, my books, my make-up and hair were perfect. I just had to go outside. Why was it so hard for me?

I felt the tears build up behind my eyes.

My mom stood in the entrance to the kitchen looking at me. She sighed in disappointment. "It's ok, Gabby," she said "You don't have to go if you don't want to,"

The doorbell rang and my books went flying.

I angrily opened the door.

"You!" I yelled.

"Hi," Troy greeted me happily and then took in the sight of my books strewn across the floor. "Was that my fault?" he asked anxiously.

"What are you doing here?" I asked grumpily and dropped to my knees to pick up the books. He joined me.

"I was wondering if I could walk you to school?" he grinned.

I was about to scream at him when my mother interrupted. "Hello!" she said as she appeared at the doorway. "I'm Gabby's mother, who might you be?" she asked happily.

"Oh, Hi Mrs Montez," Troy grinned "I'm Troy Bolton, one of _Gabby's_ friends,"

My mouth dropped open in outrage. One of my friends?? Gabby??? He had some cheek coming here with that stupid grin plastered over his face!

"It's so nice of you to walk with her!" Mom exclaimed.

"No, not at all," Troy said "Are you ready Gabs?" he smiled arrogantly at me.

Cocky Bastard.

I brushed my hair out of my face and folded my arms over my chest. "If you think I'm-"

"She's ready!" Mom interrupted and literally pushed me outside and slammed the door behind me.

I couldn't believe she just did that! Troy seemed to find it highly amusing, chuckling to himself. He took my books, adding them to his pile and started walking to school. I stood still, mouth open, astonished at what had just happened. In my own home!

"Are you coming?" Troy called behind him.

I closed my mouth and scurried to his side. "You have some nerve, Bolton," I said with a smile. I don't know why I was smiling. Sometimes things are inheritably humorous and Troy vain attempts at finding ways to spend time with me were funny in their hopelessness.

"Your Mom is real nice, why don't you talk about her more often?" he ignored me and started his own conversation.

"You've only known me for a day!! We haven't talked about anything,"

"And who's fault is that, do you think?" his eyes sparkled in humour.

"Why don't you give up now?" I said "I'm not interested,"

"Your right, we shouldn't fight about the petty things," he said "Pick your battles"

"No! I mean, leave me alone because I'm not interested in you," I put it bluntly.

He looked hurt for a second then recovered. "Good thing, too. I'm no good for you. You should be going out with a guy like Robert Gennis, do you know him? Real smart, smartly dressed, good-looking, you guys would make such a sweet couple,"

He was mocking me. My face went red in fury. I snatched my books out of his hands and ran on ahead.

He ran after me.

I halted and he stopped short of ploughing me down.

"What's your problem?!" I shouted at him.

"You have my book," he said. I looked down and there was a scruffy notepad with 'Troy Bolton' written in looping handwriting on the front. He had nice handwriting, it was delicate, nothing you'd expect from such an arrogant son-of-a. I sighed and flicked the hair away from my eyes. I handed it back to him. "Has anyone ever told you that you look sexy when you're angry?"

I laughed. Too exhausted to pretend I didn't find it funny.

"Look," he started sincerely. "I know you're not looking for a boyfriend but do you think you'd let me be a friend?"

I looked at him. He didn't have his usual toothy smile on his face, this one was slight and honest.

"I don't know," I said with an impish grin. "How do I know you won't try anything? You look like the type,"

He gasped in horror. "Are you questioning my honour? I am a Gentleman!"

"Yeah, I'll believe that when I see it," I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I'm outraged!" Troy laughed.

"I doubt it,"

* * *

Over the next week I met Chad (Troy's confidant) and during Biology I met a girl called Taylor. She scoffed at Troy and his team and I couldn't help agreeing with some of the things she said about them. They were over-confident and loutish as a group but individually they were just kids. A boy named Zeke even baked. They were best cookies I had ever tasted; I had an almost uncontrollable urge to jump him in the middle of the cafeteria.

Troy walked me to and from school everyday. He did most of the talking. I think he sensed that the mornings weren't my best time of day. At first I thought he carried my books to make sure I wouldn't run away from him but after a while I realised he had just been brought up that way. He opened doors for people, helped pick up dropped books, carried equipment to the gym for his Dad (the coach), insisted that I go in front of him in the lunch queue and pulled out chairs for me. He _was_ a gentleman. It was kind of freaky. He was even nice to Sharpay, the resident Ice Princess of East High.

Over all, it wasn't hard to become a friend of Troy Bolton. Anyone could do it.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks for reviewing guys! I was starting to worry that it was no good._

* * *

"Gabriella!" 

I managed to hold onto my books this time.

"Troy!" I said in frustration. Why can't he approach people from the front like normal people?

"I was wondering if you'd like to come with me and Chad to this party Sharpay is having,"

I cringed.

"What's wrong with Sharpay?" Troy asked. He honestly had no clue.

"She's just so dramatic," I said. We turned a corner and went straight for my locker, I opened it and shoved my books in.

"She can be a bit… " He couldn't find the words. Troy gave the impression of being incredibly articulate but really he had a rather limited vocabulary. Either that or he cringed at offending anyone the same way I cringed at the idea of an evening with Sharpay.

"She's all over you all the time," I said matter-of-factly. "Why would you want to go?" Then a thought struck me. "Do you _like_ her?" I grinned at his blush.

"No!" he said. "I mean… she's nice but she's not my type,"

"Then why are you going?"

"Because she asked,"

"You can say 'no', you know?" I said, frustrated at his terminal niceness.

"I know but I didn't want to be rude and her parties are normally a lot of fun," he said putting forward the positive. Sometimes it irritates me how he can always see the positive in life.

"And why do I have to come?" We started towards the school gates.

"Because…" He was thinking. "If I come with a girl she might lay up on the flirting,"

I looked at him; his face was a deep red. Girl's fascination with him made him extremely uncomfortable and embarrassed. As if he didn't know why they were so infatuated with him! Just look at him. Handsome, charming, nice to a fault and he was captain of the basketball team. Why was I his friend again? I frowned.

I think he took it as an indication that I was worried about appearing to be his date. "It's not a date or anything!" he said. "It's just a … deterrent,"

I laughed. "No, it's ok. I'll come for a while but then you're on your own,"

"Thanks Gabs," he looked relieved.

We walked in silence for the rest of the way home, just listening to each other's footsteps. It was strange. I had only known Troy for a week and already I felt like I'd grown up with him. Like we had met before in kindergarten or something. You only felt this comfortable with someone if you'd known them for years, right?

"Bye,"

"Bye,"

And we parted.

* * *

I pushed the hoops through my ears and stood back to look at the finished product. Stylish enough for a Sharpay party? I think so. I grinned at myself in the mirror. Short black dress, red cardigan, silver bracelets and hoops. It'll do. 

I patted my hair then sprayed it with a small bit of hairspray then grabbed my purse and my shoes and headed downstairs to get something to drink before I headed to the seventh circle of hell.

I could hear my mom sloshing around in the bath upstairs. Saturday night was bath night for my mom, it was when she really got to relax and not think about the week. I used to do the same but eventually I felt that baths were over-rated and they did nothing to help me during the really bad times. I wished I could enjoy them like my mom.

The phone rang and I jumped for it, hoping it hadn't disturbed my mom.

"Hello?" I greeted.

"_Gabriella?"_

"Troy?" I said shocked "What's wrong?"

"_Oh…um…nothing really. I just…er…"_

"Spit it out, Bolton," He could dither for America.

"_I don't know what to wear! What's appropriate? I don't have anything… partyish,"_

"Partyish?" I giggled. I'm ashamed to say that I was enjoying this far too much.

"_You're enjoying this, aren't you?"_

He knew me entirely too well.

"Why can't you wear your casual stuff?" I asked. "Unless you're looking to impress someone…"

There was silence for a while.

"_Will you just help me?"_

"Not until you admit you are trying to impress Sharpay," I was grinning evilly.

I heard him sigh _"Fine, I'd like to impress Sharpay,"_

I had my shout of triumph all ready to throw in his face but I was surprised to find that when he actually said it, I found a catch in my throat. I covered it with coughing.

"Sorry, choked on my drink," I lied. "So the secret is out," I said but not with as much victory as I had originally planned.

"_Well, it's not like I'm head over heels in love with her,"_ he protested. _"She's just been after me for a while and I realised I've never really given her a chance,"_

"How nice of you," I said sarcastically. "Hold tight, I'll be over in a moment to pick out your wardrobe,"

"_Thanks,"_

"No prob. See ya,"

"_Bye,"_

He hung up and I sat listening to the dial tone for a while. Why was this hitting me so hard? I knew it, I pushed him to say it. I was just being stupid. Tears built up beneath my lids and headache started up in my temple.

No.

I refused to feel like this. I had done so well this past week. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, leaning against the counter, head bowed. I could feel myself about to react, it could come in the form of tears, anger, shouts, screams, anything that would take away the pain.

There are two types of people in my world. One type say I over-react and make a big deal over the smallest things. They are right, of course. Then there are the people that just say I'm sensitive, they are also right in some ways. Neither of these types understand. Only the people who have been through what I'm going through can really understand what it is to be depressed. When you are depressed every little thing has a tremendous amount of meaning attached to it. The lid is screwed on too tight to the toothpaste and it becomes really hard to get off and you start crying. Why? Because you're screwed up. Troy says that he _might_ want to _maybe_ go out with Sharpay and you feel like cutting yourself.

Have you ever feel so upset that your body feels empty in the despair? That it is just a shell that used to carry a soul and one little tap would reduce it to dust.

Then you get the times when everything starts to go right, you start to joke and laugh with people. You may start drawing or playing music, singing, enjoying your life. And you think, maybe, just maybe, you are starting to get better. Maybe this time, this house, this school will be the place it happens, where you will suddenly wake up one day and actually want to get up.

And then something like this happens and you feel like an idiot that you ever thought you were ever strong enough to break away from this illness.

I blinked back the tears and took shaky breaths, desperate to cling onto the good feeling I had just ten minutes ago. I had the most uncontrollable desire to scream until my voice went hoarse but I knew that I would just feel worse afterwards.

I stood up straight and brushed down my dress. Everything seemed so empty again. Like before I moved here. I crumpled to the floor and rested my back against the cabinet. Tears built up again and I blinked them away.

I had a party to go to. This thing was not going to deny me the right to have a little fun. I refused to cry.

Did Troy really want to go out with Sharpay? What if he started going out with her and forgot all about me? Troy is a best friend to me but does he really like me in the same way? Am I just an acquaintance to him? We'd only know each other for a week, I had no claim on him as any kind of friend, not like Chad and not even like Sharpay.

I gasped back a sob and a single tear fell. I immediately stood up and shook myself, forcing my thoughts on happier things.

The phone rang again.

"Hello?" I answered quickly.

"_Hurry up! My mom is insisting that she'll help if don't get here soon!"_

I laughed. Maybe it wasn't going to be so bad. Maybe this _will_ be my cure. "But your Mom has wonderful taste!"

"_Get here now!"_ and he hung up before I could tease him some more.

I placed the receiver down and put on my shoes, called a goodbye to my Mom and set off to Troy's house. It was only a few minutes walk away but it was dark so I hurried.

* * *

_This chapter is for anyone who ever has or is suffering from depression. It_ _is horrible and those of you who are not sure what it is and how serious it is don't hesitate to e-mail me and I'll explain it in more detail. It is an illness. It's not something people can just get over. I'm taking a slightly light view of it in this story because I realize that depressed characters aren't that much fun. _

_This is a story of a girl climbing her way out of depression. I want this story to give people hope and the will to carry on.  
_


	4. Chapter 4

_Thanks guys! Your reviews are wonderful, they really cheer me up. I can't remember why I ever stopped posting my fics. I think it was I became addicted to the reviews..._ _Anyway keep posting more of them or I may start getting withdrawl symptoms! I'm really getting into the story now so hopefully the chapters will keep coming quickly._

* * *

When I got there Troy literally pulled my through the door. A short thrill shot through my body as gently gripped my wrists and swung me over the threshold of his house so that I was in front of him. Then he began pushing my back, which wasn't as enjoyable.

"Hi Gabriella!" Mrs Bolton called as I zoomed by.

"Hi Mrs Bolton!" I called back hurriedly. "Troy! Calm down, we have plenty of time," I said before he opened the door to his room and I took in the sight of hundreds of clothes thrown over the bed, chair and desk. "Oh my.."

Troy caught my eye then looked at the mess and then looked back at me as if I had the answer to life's problems. Blue eyes with an anxious haze pleaded to me.

He really did like her.

"Well," I said loudly to scare off any negative thoughts and then entered the room. "You can't wear these," I said, pointing to the pile on the bed.

"Why not?" he asked, picking up a t-shirt that I'd seen him wear twice that week.

"Because you wear those at school," I said.

"But I washed them," he said, looking offended.

Quickly, I turned around and flicked his nose like he was a misbehaving puppy.

"No," I said sternly. I grabbed the t-shirt out of his hands and shoved it into a drawer.

"Did you just flick me?" he said holding his nose but still grinning stupidly.

"Maybe," I said then turned to another pile of clothes and began to search through them. I didn't get very far because of a sharp pain in my arm.

I spun around and was met with a teenage boy trying look nonchalant in the middle of the room. He just flicked me.

"Did you just flick me?" I asked incredulously.

"Maybe," he grinned.

"Here," I said shoving a dress shirt at him. I found a stylish jacket then some simple denim jeans. "Get changed, I'll be outside,"

"Gabriella?"

"What?" I stopped in the doorway and looked at him hanging onto his bundle of clothes.

"You look nice,"

I blushed. "Thanks,"

Troy's house is nice. It's big but not too fancy and there is always the most amazing smells coming from the kitchen. Either from Zeke or his mother's cooking. As far as I could tell Zeke wasn't there so it must've been his Mom preparing tea. It smelt gorgeous.

Sometimes I wish my Mom was more like one of those 1950's housewives, baking cookies, preparing meals, making cakes, sharing recipes with other moms. Usually we get a ready-made meal and just pop in the microwave. That's what happens when your mother is a big corporate business woman.

Troy's mom had a part time job at a travel agents and his dad was the coach at school. They both seemed really happy.

"Gabriella, would you like something to eat while you're waiting?" Mrs Bolton called up the stairs.

My stomach growled in response and I grinned. "That would be great, thank you,"

"Come on down, I have some cookies left from the bake sale, that'll keep you going until you get to the party," she said cheerily.

I skipped down the stairs and swung into the kitchen. Mrs Bolton was placing a plate of raisin cookies on the white tiled surface when I entered. The smell was even more intense closer to the oven, it made my mouth water.

"What are you cooking?" I asked. "It smells wonderful,"

"Oh, just some salmon and cous cous, nothing special," she giggled modestly. "We thought, because Troy was going out, we'd have a candlelit dinner. Just the parents, you know?"

"That sounds nice," I said softly. My Mom and Dad divorced, he lives in Washington so I hardly see him. It happened when I was young so I don't miss him much. There's a couple of phone calls a month but apart from that I don't think about him but when I look at Troy's parents I sometimes get a little jealous of him.

"Has Troy found some clothes?" she asked politely as she went back to stirring some kind of sauce.

"Yes, he should be fine," I said with a smile on my face.

Mrs Bolton grinned at my smile and I suddenly found out where Troy got his smile from.

"What?" I asked when she didn't stop smiling. It may have been a bit rude but she was putting me on edge. I put a cookie in my mouth and looked down to cover my face.

"I'm just so glad Troy has found such a nice girlfriend, you two make such a lovely couple,"

I choked on my cookie and began a marathon coughing fit. Mrs Bolton scuttled over and began patting on my back and handed me a bottle of water. I took a gulp and a breath. "A couple?" I said when I had some more air.

Mrs Bolton looked confused for a second then realisation dawned on her gentle face. "Aren't you…?" I shook my head. "Oh dear! My mistake! I'm sorry," she said rather embarrassed. "It's just…with all the time you spend together and he talks a lot about you, I just assumed…" she flustered.

"It's ok," I said quickly. "But we're just friends," I didn't want to know what Troy had said about me, it would only get me down. He liked Sharpay now.

"Oh my. What a fool I've made of myself!" she laughed good-heartedly. "Just don't tell Troy or he'll kill me,"

"My lips are sealed," I said drawing an imaginary zip across my mouth.

"How do I look?" A new voice entered the room. Troy opened his arms wide and spun around so we could get a good look.

"Very handsome," Mrs Bolton gushed.

"Hmm," I agreed. I'd have been able to say more if I hadn't been struck by how _good_ he actually did look. I started to feel very hot as the blood rushed to my cheeks and chest. "Are we ready?" I checked to see if he had some shoes on and almost had a heart attack. "You can't wear those!" I shouted.

Troy furrowed his brow then looked down at the offending footwear. "What's wrong with them?" He picked up his foot to look at the sneakers hanging off it.

"What's right with it?" I countered. "It's falling apart! I'm assuming they were once white?"

"Maybe," he mumbled then looked up and grinned at me.

"Where are your other shoes?" I asked sternly. He took me to a shoe rack by the front door and pointed at the bottom row. "How about these?" I asked picking up some shiny business shoes.

Troy made a face and shook his head. "They give me blisters,"

"How bout these then?" I picked up some cleaner sneakers.

"Those are my game shoes!" he complained.

"So?"

"So I can't wear them if I'm not playing!"

"Just pretend Sharpay's head is a basketball,"

"No!"

I sighed. "What about those?" I pointed at a pair of suede shoes.

"They're my dad's!"

"Well you have no clean shoes!!" I yelled.

"These are fine!" he said pointing at the half-sentient shoes on his feet.

"They look like they are about to sprout legs and run off your feet!" I said angrily. He was being deliberately uncooperative! Arrogant, scruffy Neanderthal. "Wear your game shoes,"

"No!" he looked genuinely offended at the thought.

"Why not?"

"Because they're special!"

"They're shoes!" I couldn't believe how stubborn he was being. He's the one who invited me to dress him!

"Well if shoes are so unimportant then you won't mind me wearing these," he said, indicating the abominations on his feet. Before I could stop him he walked out the front door and closed it behind him. Was he actually angry at me?

I grabbed my bag from the kitchen, said a hurried goodbye to Mrs Bolton and ran out the door. I looked down the street but couldn't see him in the darkness. I felt the tears threatening again.

"Gotcha!"

I screamed as hands found my waist and started tickling me.

"Troy!" I whacked him with my shoulder bag. "You scared me!"

He didn't pay attention to my protests. "I can't believe you thought I'd get angry over shoes!" he laughed.

"Will you wear the game shoes then?" I asked.

"No," he said simply and started walking in the direction of Sharpay's house.

I decided to drop the argument. I wouldn't be able to get him to wear anything else even if I spent an hour and it was getting closer to the time we were meant to be there.

"We have to meet Chad," he said and he turned us around the corner into Chad's street. "Are you ok?" he asked out of the blue.

I realised I had been staring at my feet as we walked, I quickly looked up to meet his eyes. He looked concerned. He was way too nice.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just tired I think," I lied. The truth was I wasn't looking forward to this evening at all. I got the impression Chad didn't like me very much and if Troy went off with Sharpay I'd have no one else to talk except him. Taylor hadn't been invited and I really had no other friends. I could feel the familiar gloomy feeling coming over me. The one that told me that there was no hope and I should just go back to bed.

"Yeah, you seem positively perky," he joked then nudged me with his elbow. I nudged him back just to show he couldn't push me around.

We collected Chad from his house, the walk to Sharpay's was filled with good-humoured teasing and various different types of fart jokes. Oh yes, there are different types. I didn't really join in as I had a limited knowledge on the humour of bodily functions but I enjoyed them enjoying them. It made the 20 minutes walk shorter than if they didn't have them.

We all skipped up the steps to Sharpay's grand front door and stood in the marble porch. I think we all felt very insignificant in the face of such grandeur. Troy looked at us and waggled eyebrows at the over-the-top doorbell. It was carved into the shape of a full rose with the button in the middle. "It almost looks too pretty to push," Chad commented and we sniggered.

Fortunately we were spared the decision of to push or not to push by the door flying open with a flourish. Sharpay stood before us in a short-cut skin-tight pink dress with flowing shawls and shiny sequins. Her hair was coiffed to perfection and she had the most beautiful pearls around her neck.

"Hi Troy!" she bubbled, completely ignoring the presence of two other people. "Come in!" then she noticed me and her face became thunder.

"Sharpay, this is Gabriella," Troy introduced me. As quick as her face became thunderous it went back to perky.

"Well, everyone's welcome," she giggled.


	5. Chapter 5

_hellloooooo again. another chapter of drivel for you. Enjoy._

* * *

We shuffled into the crowded house, the music was loud and obnoxious and the lighting was atmospheric. It was hard to keep track of Troy and Chad, the basketball team crowded round them then the cheerleaders threw themselves at them. Sharpay broke that up quickly by throwing her arms around Troy's neck. Troy gently and politely removed them. 

For someone who was meant to be interested in her he was rather uncomfortable around her. The drama queen took Troy's hand and dragged him out of my sight; Chad was also nowhere to be seen. I was alone in a crowd full of people. The story of my life.

I cleared my throat nervously then decided to get out of the main throng of the party. I squeezed through an ocean of bodies until I got to the kitchen, it had a few less people in there. A couple making out, two jocks laughing, Zeke trying to chat up a pretty girl and two guys manning the keg. My eyes widened at the beer. I didn't know there was alcohol! Troy could've warned me.

I felt eyes on me, I turned to see one of the jocks checking me out. He winked at me and wiped his mouth on his sleeve in preparation to approaching me. There was no way, mister. I left before he got to me and shut myself in the girl's bathroom.

This was a nightmare, I wish I'd never come.

I jumped as Sharpay's voice came through a speaker in the top right-hand corner of the room. She had speakers??

"Ladies and Gentlemen! My band and I are about to play!! Everyone in the living room…..NOW!"

I flinched and then scurried out of the bathroom, at least I could find Troy again if we were all going to be in the same room.

The band started up before I got there and I was annoyed to hear that Sharpay had quite a good singing voice. People were whistling and grinding against each other, basically acting like inebriated animals. Ok, so they kinda were but that was no excuse to act like them.

Sharpay was soaking in the attention and her brother Ryan was obviously just loving being on the stage. I liked Ryan, I just wished he wouldn't act like Sharpay's poodle.

Suddenly hands covered her eyes. "Guess who?"

"Um… Eleanor Roosevelt?"

"Smart-ass," Troy laughed then grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the living room. I squealed with pleasure. I was getting used to him pulling me around, I must put an end to this kind of behaviour. I broke our hands and glared at him.

He looked at me in confusion. "What's wrong?"

"You can't just leave me alone at a party then come back and expect me to follow you!" I said huffily.

He smiled and I instantly forgave him. Damn him. "Sorry," he said, shrugging. "Do you want to get out of here?"

"What happened to impressing Sharpay?" I asked.

"I'd rather spend time with you,"

My heart soared and I blushed. "What about Chad?" I asked. Troy grinned and pointed back into the living room. There was Chad with a very pretty cheerleader, dancing like no one could see them. "Is that legal?" I said with a cringe.

"I'm not sure," Troy chuckled. "Come on, let's go somewhere else, this isn't really my scene," He took my hand and we left the house and ran down the road towards the park.

I felt so relieved to be out of the house and away from all those people that a giggle erupted in my throat. Troy laughed and let me go into the park first.

I ran straight for the swings and hopped on. I took a deep breath. I love the night air, it was so clear and cool. I leaned back on my swing and stared at the stars in the sky until a face blocked them from view.

"Whatcha doin'?" he asked.

"Looking at the stars," I sighed.

He looked up, the moonlight caught his eyes and made them look more blue than I ever thought possible. I was captivated by them until he blinked and looked back at me looking at him.

My heart raced and my mouth went dry, I just couldn't look away. My brain was screaming at me to start a conversation, break the silence, break the contact. But my heart was soaring and couldn't hear the strangled pleas of a broken mind.

It was him who broke the stare by blinking and looking away, looking up, looking to the side. Anywhere but me.

He only saw me as a friend. That was my own stupid fault.

He walked around and sat in the swing next to me and was silent. I lifted myself up again and started swinging slightly.

"Bet I can swing higher than you," I challenged him.

"You're on!" he accepted and we started swinging full force, just like we were in kindergarten.

After we'd calmed down and finished the hearty argument over who had swung the highest and why, Troy insisted it was him because he had longer legs, we lapsed into a comfortable silence. Looking at the stars and listening to the crickets in the long grass. It was so peaceful; this was how every night should be. Laughter, moonlight warmth and security in spending time with a good friend.

It was a shame it couldn't last forever, if we'd known what was going to happen in the next few days, we would have made the most of it, the most of each other. But such is the way of the world.

"Do you ever feel like you wished you were someone else?"

I was startled out of my thoughts. The boy who I thought could only see the positive was suddenly bleak and negative. And I loved him for it. He was looking sad and pensive as he stared at the sky. Although I had a guilty pleasure and knowing he also had a dark side, I didn't like to see him so forlorn and down. It was unnatural on him. Like the suit jacket he wearing made him look neat and uncomfortable. The sadness made him nervous and unsure of himself. The way I saw it, I could tell a joke and make him laugh away the awkwardness or I could answer truthfully and let him know he didn't have to be happy all the time.

"All the time," I said.

He caught my eyes again and smiled. It was his genuine smile. The one he used when he asked if we could be friends. He brought it up whenever I was feeling uncertain of myself, like a silent reminder that he was my friend and was there if I needed him. We were supporting and encouraging each other.

"Why are you asking?" I asked curiously.

"I don't know," he sighed. He was lying, of course. He knew, he just didn't like that he felt that way. "I just wish people wouldn't see 'basketball guy' when they looked at me. I just thought if I was someone who was into chess or writing, people would get to know me for me and not for a name on a few trophies," He looked at me for assurance that this wasn't crazy.

I nodded and swung a little. I never thought he didn't like the attention, he just flowed with it so naturally I just assumed he enjoyed it. In truth he was probably just used to it and good at deferring the attention on someone else.

"Unfortunately, those people tend to become invisible or singled out for torture," I said. I think he knew I was talking from personal experience.

"That's not right," he whispered solemnly. I shook my head in agreement. "I think I'd like to be invisible," he said loudly. "Think of the mayhem I could cause," He was grinning impishly once more.

"I'd rather not," I laughed.

"I'm so glad you moved here," he said unexpectedly. He voice was so deep and heartfelt that I was shocked at the emotion in it. He reached out for my hand and squeezed it between his fingers.

"Me too," I said truthfully.

"Gabriella?"

"Hmm?"

There was a pause where he looked so deep in thought that I didn't dream of disturbing him.

"Never mind," he dismissed it with the wave of his free hand.

"Ok,"


	6. Chapter 6

_Aren't you guys lucky? Two chapters in one day! Right, you all heard **Brandi **this story obviously needs more reviews. Feed me. I need my ego fluffing. It's not hard, all you have to do is give a long a detailed review about why my story is so fantastic, how the writing is wonderful and how it's a shame that the author is completely off her head. _

_No seriously, tell me what you think. I like criticism, it helps me improve._

* * *

The evening ended soon after that and I went back home and spent Sunday catching up on homework. Monday didn't come soon enough in my opinion. I had never been so excited about school. About the walk to school, more specifically. I waited in the kitchen for the doorbell that signalled his arrival. I was so eager that my mother couldn't help but laugh. She'd been happier in the past few days, I had been too. I didn't want this feeling to stop.

But the minutes passed by and it was soon past the time he normally called for me. My smile faded gradually with every tick of the clock in my kitchen. Was he sick? Had he hurt himself? Why wasn't he calling?

Eventually I just decided to walk without him. I looked down the deserted street for him. Hoping he was just running late, and I'd see him bounded up full of apologies and strained excuses for his tardiness. But he wasn't there. He wasn't at his locker before class and he wasn't in the gym.

"Chad!" I caught up with him in the corridor. "Where's Troy today?"

I waited for Chad to finish his conversation with another guy on the team before he bothered to acknowledge me. "I don't know, he left the party early, maybe he's sick," he shrugged.

"I left with him, he was fine," I informed him.

Chad looked worried for a moment but then his mega-watt smile switched back on. "I wouldn't worry about it, we have basketball practice after school, he hasn't missed one yet,"

"Ok," I nodded, agreeing with Chad but still not entirely placated. Chad patted my shoulder kindly then left to get to his next lesson.

At the end of the day I waited in the gym for the team to arrive and start practice. I didn't have to wait long before Chad came rushing out of the changing rooms in his normal clothes.

"Where's Coach?" he asked.

"He hasn't been out here," I said worriedly, I stood up and made to follow Chad as he stormed across the gym. "Where are you going?"

"Wait for us!" Zeke shouted as he and Jason came out of the changing room.

"I'm going to see the principal," Chad said. "He'll tell us whether practice is on or not and what's happened to the Bolton family and why they don't think it _important_ to _show up_." Chad was angry, unfortunately it was his default setting. I could tell that, actually, he was just as worried as I was.

Chad banged his fists on the office door, ignoring the receptionist's calls of protest. I just hung back, not wanting to get in Chad's way.

The receptionist was much braver than I was.

"He's in a meeting," she pushed herself between Chad and the door.

If looks could kill….

"I can't let you in," she said sternly.

She didn't have to. The principal was disturbed by the racket and he got up to answer the door himself.

"What's going on?" he asked, bewildered by the crowd outside his door. I peered past him at the confused couple sat in front of his desk. They obviously were deciding whether or not to send their child here. Not likely now.

"What's up with the practice?!" Chad challenged him.

"I tried to tell them but they wouldn't stop," the receptionist explained guiltily.

The principal came out of his office and closed the door behind him. "It's ok, Julie," he said to the receptionist and she returned to her desk, happy to get out of range of Chad's temper. "Sit down," he gestured to the chairs in the waiting room.

We all sat obediently apart from Chad who decided to stay standing. Although he did take a few steps back out of courtesy. The air was buzzing in nerves and uncertainty. Zeke, Jason and I were exchanging anxious glances. We were looking to Chad to head the investigation. "Where are Troy and Coach Bolton?" he got straight to the point.

Sometimes I flinched at his defiance to authority figures but this time I was just as worried and just as angry that they kept us in the dark.

"I can't give you exact details because they didn't give them to me," The principal started. He had a kind face, the face of a father. It was appropriate as he was like a father to many of the kids who went here. "All I know is that there has been some kind of family emergency and they won't be at school for a few days. I'm sure it's fine and they'll be back as soon as they can." He reassured us. "I'm sorry I forgot about the practice otherwise I would've told you. I think its best if you went home, basketball will have to wait until Coach Bolton is back,"

"What's happened?" Chad demanded.

"I told you I don't know," he replied "They gave me bare details and I think they'd prefer that nothing is said until the matter is resolved," he was getting a bit frustrated with Chad's obvious lack of respect. Chad's face was red with fury.

"But we are his friends!" Chad argued. His fists were balled and his stance was firm and resolute. The atmosphere was like that of just before a bar fight. I didn't like the look in Chad's eye. I didn't think he'd punch the principle but he was likely to punch something before he left here. I didn't want any violence.

"Chad," I got up before Chad could take a swing at anything. I took his fist, uncurled it and slipped my fingers around his. He looked at me in surprise. "He doesn't know anything," I said softly. "Come on," I began to lead him out of the area. Zeke and Jason followed. Chad looked back, rage evident on his features.

He waited for when we were far enough away and on the way home to shake off my hand.

"He knows something," he hissed. "He knows and he won't tell us,"

"He's right, though," I said quietly. I sensed that I shouldn't be loud or sudden around him when he was like this. "It's not our business to know if they don't want us to,"

Chad's anger was immediately directed at me. "Don't you care?" he said venomously.

"Of course I care," I said "But don't you think Troy would've called by now if he wanted us to know?"

"Yeah man, Troy wouldn't keep us in the dark unless he had to," Jason added.

"What are you talking about?!" Chad shouted. People on the street looked up from what they were doing to see what was happening. "Troy tells us everything!"

I couldn't help but wonder if Troy had told Chad what he had told me on Saturday. About hating the attention that Chad seemed to revel in.

Zeke and Jason were silent in thought. We were all nervous and worried and Chad shouting at us was the last thing we needed.

"Maybe we should just go home and talk about it tomorrow," I suggested in a small voice. Everyone nodded and split up to go their separate ways. Zeke and Jason towards the bus and Chad and I headed for our respective houses, that was until he turned around and ran past me on the way to my house. "Where are you going?!" I yelled. He didn't turn around.

I ran after him, I wasn't as fast but I was fast enough to keep him in sight. He ran straight past my house and it was then I knew he was planning on storming the Bolton's house. "Stop!" I bellowed at him.

He just carried on. I threw my books and my bag into my driveway and ignored my mom's shouts of confusion. Without the weight I picked up speed and gradually caught up with the crazy-haired man.

"Chad! Stop!" I shouted and grabbed onto his arm. I dug my heels into the ground to stop him pulling me over and we swung around until I was facing him, blocking his path. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to see him so I can find out what's going on," he explained finally. "You can come if you want but, if not, get outta my way,"

I nodded, thinking it was better to be damage control than the thing he crashed through to get to his goal. Plus, I wanted to know too. We walked in silence, the worry was too much to deal with and we didn't really have much to talk about. All that was on our minds was Troy and his family. What could possibly have happened?

We approached the house, the windows were dark and I could hear no sounds of the basketball in the back garden. No birds seemed to chirp and nothing appeared to move. It was more like an old black and white photo of a house rather than the real thing. It was dead.

"I don't think they are home," I said but Chad ignored me and went straight for the front door. "Chad! Their car isn't here," I tried.

He rang the bell and waited. I skipped up the steps and stood by him. There was no answer.

He rang again.

Then again.

I looked through the windows, a cup of coffee was left out, half finished. The TV was on, flickering on a static channel. They had left in a hurry.

"They aren't here," I said gently.

I jumped as Chad punched the door. He dropped to the floor and sat on the step with his head in his hands. Hair poked through his bruised fingers in all directions. I didn't know what to do, what I should say or suggest. It wasn't like being with Troy. I didn't know Chad very well.

"Did he say anything to you?" he asked. He looked up and I could see the hurt in his eyes. I sat down beside him and hugged my knees.

"No,"

"I just hate not knowing," he said. "I figured he'd have told you if anything was going on,"

"I don't know any more than you do, you're his best friend," I said.

"He hasn't been talking to me as much now that you're here," he said sadly.

Was Chad jealous of me? I always knew that Chad had some sort of problem with me but I always thought it was because I was a geeky, maths, spaz girl. Not fit to talk to any of the basketball types.

"Just because he spends time with me doesn't mean he's replaced you," I giggled.

Chad smiled. "I guess not,"

"Who would give him a hard time? I don't nearly keep him as disciplined as I should," I joked.

Chad laughed. It was nice. He had a good hearty laugh.

"Do you want some brownies? My mom makes the best chocolate chip brownies in the world," It was true, they were.

He looked uncertain, like he wanted to stay on this step until they came home, like a faithful dog.

"There's no point being here when nobody is around, just come to my house, we can wait together by my phone,"

"Ok," he said and we got up and set off for my house.


	7. Chapter 7

_Long chapter. I was going to break it up into two but I think it's best if I just put out all together. I'm not so sure about this chapter. I've been over and over it and I know I'm going to find faults with it as soon as I put it up but I figured if I kept it until I felt it was perfect you guys would be waiting forever because I never think my work is perfect. So I'm sorry if it's not up to standard, I'm a useless, useless person, I know._

* * *

Chad left after scoffing down three brownies, he thanked and complimented my Mom profusely then reminded me to call him if I found out anything. Overall, I felt much more comfortable around Chad and I think Chad felt more comfortable around me. It felt good to have friends (plural). I always just had one good friend in each town I had moved to, it minimised the hurt when I eventually left.

I remember one friend back in Milwaukee. I was about five, I think and she was in my class and she had, it seemed, like a hundred friends. She was so popular that I was surprised she paid any attention to me at all. She always said that she liked me the 'bestest'. Her name was Annabelle but she preferred people to call her Belle because it meant beautiful (she reminded us).

Anyway, she took me under her wing and introduced me to all her friends as her best friend and I went along happily. I had never had a best friend before and it felt good to be so popular for once. Everyone was nice, everyone was themselves, we had the most fantastic games and I became so integrated in their group that I forgot for a while that I wouldn't be able to stay.

When I left it had been heartbreaking for both sides and I cried so much that I thought that being popular wasn't worth it if I just had to give it all up every time my mom's company said move.

Well, we were here for a long time, until I graduate apparently. I don't have to be mega-popular but a few good friends wouldn't hurt.

I sat down on the couch in front of the TV and stared out of the window. What was Troy doing now? Was he ok? I couldn't focus on Hannah Montana without my mind wandering back to Troy and his family. Fear clutched at my heart.

Have you ever had that feeling when you just know something bad is going to happen or is happening? Apart from all the ominous omens, the half-finished coffee and the TV on it's eerie static, I just had that gut feeling that I wasn't going to like what was about to happen.

The air changed and I got cold. I pulled a blanket over my shoulders and watched as the world outside lived and hustled by. Mom was outside doing the gardening, I hadn't told her what had happened yet, I didn't want to disturb her. She loved gardening.

The phone rang shrill in the silence. I almost didn't want to pick it up.

"Hello?" I said into the receiver.

"_Gabby?"_

"Troy?" I said quickly. "Are you ok? What happened?" My heart began to race. Please God, don't let anything have happened.

I half expected him to come back with a joke about my over-anxiousness but it never came.

"_It's my mom,"_ his voice caught, he sounded so vulnerable I wanted to cry for him. _"We were in a car accident…I don't know what's happening,"_

"Oh God," I breathed. "Are you alright? Is your mom hurt?"

"_I…I'm fine. I don't know what to do, we're in the hospital, they haven't let me see her,"_ He sounded so scared, I couldn't believe this was happening.

"Can I do anything?" I asked quietly. I didn't think there was anything I could do. I could hear his deep controlled breathing, he was holding back tears. So was I.

"_Can you come? Dad's with doctors. I'm on my own,"_

"I'll be there as soon as I can," I said firmly. "Troy, she's going to be ok,"

"_Yeah…"_ But he didn't sound so sure. I wasn't so sure either.

I hung up, grabbed my cell and ran outside.

"Mom!" I yelled.

She peered from under her sun hat at me. "What's the matter honey?"

"Can I borrow the car?"

"Why?" She asked suspiciously, she can be so infuriating sometimes.

"I'll tell you later!" I said "Please?"

She got up and reached into her pocket. "One scratch and never again," she warned me as she handed me the keys.

"Thanks Mom," Then I had an uncontrollable urge to hug her. I think she was caught off-guard because she stumbled a bit but then hugged back. I let go. "See ya,"

"Bye," she said with bemused expression.

It took way too long to get to the hospital, stupid lights, stupid motorists, stupid kids on bikes. Halfway there I realised I hadn't called Chad and I wondered if Troy wanted him know. Chad would just insist on causing havoc as his temper got the better of him.

Adrenaline was pumping, my heart was about to explode and wasn't half as much as I knew Troy would be feeling. What if it was my mom? I wouldn't know what to do at all. I'd probably call Troy.

I pulled into the hospital parking and quickly locked the car and rushed into hospital, heading straight to the desk. It was then I realised I had no idea where they were. What do I ask? The receptionist was looking at me as if I'd just escaped from the psych ward.

"Can I help you?" she drawled.

"Um-"

"Gabriella!"

I spun around and saw Troy. He looked as bad as I felt. His eyes were glassy with lack of sleep and his clothes were crumpled and unwashed as if he'd slept in a chair. And there was a dressing on a cut above his eye, the blood had seeped through and he had an angry bruise on the cheek of the same side.

I ran to him and he wrapped his arms around me without delay. My heart broke, my mind couldn't form words, my legs could hardly stand. He smelt so good, he felt so warm and alive. He was alive. He wasn't too hurt. I felt bad that I was so relieved to see him while his mom was still somewhere in the hospital getting treated. I stopped thinking all I could do was just hold him until he wanted to let go.

"Troy? What's happening?" I whispered.

"I don't know,"

"Where's your Dad?"

"I don't know," his voice was breaking in the middle of sentences. His chest was heaving in the effort of trying not to cry.

"Do you want me to call anyone else?" I asked, thinking about Chad. "Like Chad?"

He let go off me but I grabbed his hand to let him know I wasn't trying to escape.

"No," he said "Maybe later… when we have something definite to tell him,"

I nodded. That was probably wise. Chad hated not knowing but not knowing _and_ not being able to help would send him around the bend. "Let's go and sit somewhere," I suggested.

He just nodded and rubbed his eyes. They were bloodshot and hazy. He hadn't seen any sleep for a while, the blue that normally sparkled in his eyes seemed a dull grey. He looked exhausted and empty, I didn't like him looking like this, I didn't want him feeling this, not when I knew what it was like to feel so worn and numb. I wouldn't wish this feeling on anyone.

He walked me to the waiting room in the ward they had taken his mother to and we sat side by side on the hard benches there. I was silent. I missed the happy Troy, he did most of the talking. I thought about Mrs Bolton, about how nice she was to me. She could be really funny. It was Wednesday of last week that I first went to Troy's house. I didn't want to, I was having a bad day and the cheerleader's taunts about my dress sense were really getting up my nose, but he had stolen my bag and made me chase after him all the way. He knew what he was doing. He knew his mom could cheer me up better than he could. When we arrived there he had a cocky smile on his face and said 'Since you're here, would you like to come in?' I, of course, said 'no' but he dragged me in anyway.

I had never met anyone who made me feel as welcome as Susan Bolton. She made me feel like I was a daughter that hadn't visited in a long time. She said how beautiful I was, how I shouldn't be hanging around with a boy like Troy, I was way out of his league. We'd laughed it off. She'd fed us the best cakes in the world and sent us outside to water the plants. It was a good day.

I took Troy's hand again.

"When did it happen?" I asked.

"Last night," he choked out.

I nodded and put my head on his shoulder, I wanted to be close to him. I wanted share what little strength I had with him. I wanted to make this all go away for him. Like he had made it all go away for me. I wanted to heal his mom and bring her back to him. I wanted fix everything for him. I wanted to make him happy again.

"So Chad and I are friends now," I said.

"Yeah?" he jumped for the happy topic.

"Yeah we talked a little. He's got a bit of a temper, hasn't he?" I smiled.

Troy chuckled. "I remember when I met him. He hit me over the head with a plastic spade,"

"A plastic spade?" I giggled.

"Hey! We were four! I accidentally knocked his sand castle over. It couldn't be helped," He said becoming animated. "It was ok though because he said he was just about to do the same to mine, then we joined forces and kicked Ryan's sand castle over,"

I laughed, imagining four year old Troy and Chad causing havoc in the sand pit. Poor Ryan, he must've had a lifetime of torment by now. "A friendship made in heaven," I said sarcastically.

Troy sighed and looked straight ahead at the bare colourless walls of the hospital. The blood on his forehead made his complexion look so pale. He was hurting physically and mentally, thinking too much. I recognised the signs of someone in pain too well because I'd seen them in me. Happy conversations were only fleeting, friends merely people, family merely relatives. Thoughts were dark and the world was darker. And you thought it was always going to be this way, hope was diminished and despair ruled.

"Troy?" I said to break him away from his feelings.

"Hmm?" he looked at me with hope.

"Do you want to talk?"

We just carried on our staring contest until he spoke again. "No," he said.

"Ok," I said. "I'm here if you do……Do you want to sleep?"

"I'm not allowed," he said, pointing to his head. "Concussion,"

"Oh," No wonder he looked so tired.

"You can though, I feel much better now that you're here,"

He lifted his arm and put it around my shoulders and placed his head on top of my head. I felt his lips brush against my forehead and I smiled.

I didn't want to fall asleep, I tried staying awake to join in solidarity with Troy but I was so comfortable on his shoulder and nothing was happening. He started humming something, an old tune, his voice was soft and low as it rumbled in his chest and I fell asleep to it.

* * *

"Troy?"

I blinked the sleep out of my eyes and instantly missed the warm arm I had been leaning on as Troy sat up to pay attention to the voice. I opened my eyes fully to take in the sight of Coach Bolton, looking just as tired as Troy, maybe even a little paler.

"What's happening?" Troy was immediately alert and attentive.

We looked towards Mr Bolton for the answers but he just shrugged and blinked back tears.

"I been running around for hours trying to find someone who could tell me something but everyone says the same thing, that she's still in surgery and they won't know anything until the surgeons are finished," he said shakily, he was so scared.

"It's not meant to take this long, is it?" Troy asked sadly.

I felt so helpless, I felt like I should be doing something for them but I just stood there like an idiot. Troy was looking at his father for all the answers and I could tell that his dad really wanted to give them to him but he just didn't have them. Troy's dad was usually like a pillar of strength and support for the family. Right now he was breaking, he was losing his foundations.

I looked away, I couldn't watch this conversation anymore. As I did I saw a doctor approaching us. His head down, he took steady slow steps, his face was grave.

Please, no.

"Are you Mr Bolton?" he asked softly when he reached us.

Troy's dad stepped forward, concern etched in his face, it had sunk into every wrinkle and crevice making him age five years in a split second.

The Doctor sighed. "I'm sorry." He said. "Her injuries were too severe, we did all that we could do but she had lost too much blood and the blow to her head was catastrophic…"

Time just seemed to stop. I didn't need to hear the end of the sentence anyway. I could hear my heart in my ears. I imagined I could hear Troy's heart crumbling under the doctor's words.

"No," Troy croaked.

I couldn't stop, the tears came. This hadn't happened, this couldn't happen. Not to Troy. Not to his Mom. Not to someone so sweet. I brought my hands to my mouth.

I turned around to watch Troy break down slowly. Mr Bolton looked green but hadn't yet shed a tear. I watched a family fall apart, a pillar fall as its foundations was ripped from under it and I didn't do anything. What could I do? I was the friend, I wasn't anyone important.

Troy fell into the bench we had laughed on just an hour earlier and brought his head to his knees. I gasped quietly as I watched the first pain-filled sob wrack his body. He didn't make a sound. He'd given up trying to stay strong.

"Could you come with me, Mr Bolton?" The doctor asked tenderly. "Or do you want a few minutes?"

"No, no," he rasped. "I'll come now," He looked at me briefly then looked at Troy. It was a silent order not to leave him.

I'll never leave him.

I rushed to him and hugged him tight. Feeling his body convulse with silent sobs, his hands were covering his eyes and face, he didn't want me to see his face. He didn't want to cry because that would make it real. I cried for him with my head resting on his back. We were hurting together, joint in pain and heartbreak. He soon gave up trying to hide and buried his head into my shoulder and neck, his arms wrapped around my middle and pushing me close until there was no space between me and him.

"There must be a mistake," he said into my neck. "She can't be …" He couldn't say it. Not yet. I don't think it had quite sunk in for me. I'm not sure he even believed it. How do you take in something like this? There's no way.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. It felt like a stupid thing to say, what was me being sorry going to do?

"I just saw her yesterday, I just saw her yesterday," he repeated. His chest heaved with silent anguish. He hadn't made a sound. Just huge breaths disguising the hurt. He was shocked, too shocked to really cry yet.

"I know. It's not fair," I couldn't do this, I wasn't strong enough.

"She was telling me about the cake, she was there. She can't be just gone,"

I couldn't answer, I just wept into his shoulder, he tried saying something else but my silence seemed to jolt him into realising what had happened, he couldn't get the words out before he started to cry too. Silent tears, no sound, no complaint from the good boy.

"She's my mom, what am I meant to do without her?" His voice was strangled through the tears. I didn't know the answer. It wasn't something I could fathom. My mom was my whole world, I wouldn't survive without her.

How do I answer these questions? Couldn't he see I was useless? Chad would be more use, anyone but me would be more use. I didn't know anything. All I could do was cry or sit around. If he wanted me to explain a complex equation I'd be more than happy to explain it in depth. But death? How was anyone meant to know the answers?

It took a long time but finally he could give any more tears, not until it had really sunk in, not until he had talked to his dad. We were both spent. During that time I had climbed onto his lap to get more comfortable but now I was feeling decidedly uncomfortable with the position. I broke the hug by wiggling a little and sat back to look at his face. It was stained with tears, his eyes were red and puffy and strands of wet hair framed them. I could tell in the way he looked at me that I was looking just as bad.

He brushed the hair away from my face with his fingers and I smiled warmly at him. I decided that a little more hugging wasn't going to hurt anyone and resumed my previous position and he kissed my cheek.

"Thank you," he whispered into my hair.


	8. Chapter 8

_This is a sort of time passing chapter. Some of you might hate me for doing this but I just want to say that this doesn't mean Troy will suddenly get over it because that would be impossible. This is just describing the months afterwards. Sorry to leave on such an unhappy note last chapter. I usually can't stand being all dramatic but I just feel I need to write something serious instead making a joke out of everything like I normally do.  
_

* * *

I went home late at night as soon as I was sure that Troy had his Dad and his Dad had him.

I wept in the arms of my mother. I told her everything and she cried a little too. She just kept repeating 'Oh God,' every few minutes as if He could do anything. This was His fault in the first place, as far as I was concerned.

The next month was painful, Troy didn't come to school but he gave me permission to tell Chad and his team what had happened and why they won't be in for a while. I could hardly get through the explanation without the tears pouring from my eyes.

Of course, Chad was insufferable after that. Angrier and more venomous than ever, he shouted at me for not calling straight away. He shouted at Jason for asking how the crash had come about. He shouted at Zeke for baking too much. Taylor became very close to me and closer to the team, another girl called Martha found out and approached me one day. She had tears in her eyes as she explained how she knew Mrs Bolton. Apparently she had encouraged Martha to pursue her dream of becoming a dancer.

A girl called Kelsi had found out from Sharpay and she came running to me and Taylor one day at lunch. She wanted to continue the bake sale that Mrs Bolton had started, she had some music she wanted to play at the event and she had a lot of enthusiasm and I thought it would be wonderful to remember her that way.

Everyone agreed to help and to host it at school, even Sharpay decided to participate by providing the financial/ entertainment side of the event. Soon a simple bake sale turned into a small fete, devoted to cooking. We had parents agreeing to participate, teachers helping to organise and students anticipating the event.

The funeral happened. Troy didn't talk to anyone.

Chad and I were dressed up and uncomfortable. Every time we tried to talk to Troy. Troy made an excuse, smiled and left. It was heartbreaking. We saw him crying after the service, in an alcove around the side of the church, away from everyone. Chad's anger immediately evaporated after that. He wanted to go over to him but I held him back. It was probably best that he was alone. We left the funeral with heavy hearts and silent sighs. Chad came over for a little while afterwards but left just before he was about to cry. His masculinity wouldn't cope with letting a girl see him fall apart for his friend.

Every few days, after that, I visited the Bolton household. It took a joint effort between Chad and me but Troy started to talk again eventually. We even started laughing again.

"I thought I saw her this morning," he told me one time. I didn't reply. I just let him talk. "In the kitchen,"

"What was she doing?" It was the first time he'd mentioned her since it happened.

"Baking a cake," he chuckled. "She always wanted me to learn to make one but I always said it was a girly thing to do. I thought I had woken from bad dream I'd been having……Then I blinked and she wasn't there,"

Tears filled my eyes, I had been finding it increasingly difficult in the past month to stay away from depression that I didn't think I could cope with a conversation like this now. It might push me over the edge.

"Dad's not coping," he croaked. I moved closer to him on the couch and hooked my arm around his. However much I hated the conversation, Troy needed to say whatever it was he needed to say. "She'd know what to do. She was the one that fixed everything here. This isn't a home without her," He'd begun crying then. Tears that he tried to wipe away before they even arrived. "I miss her," I started crying with him.

He began to improve after that, slowly but surely he broke out of the gloom and started to become more like himself. He was so happy about the bake sale. I explained about all the people who were joining in to remember Susan. Troy couldn't believe how big it had become and his father was overwhelmed by all the people that his wife had touched and helped that he cried for the first time since she died. Troy said not to worry and that it was about time.

It was three weeks since the crash and it was my fourth visit to his house when he told me he was thinking about going back to school.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "Go Fish,"

He picked up a card. "I don't think I'm very good at this game," he said peering at his hand.

"You got any jacks?" I said. "It's really soon," I returned to the topic.

"I know I just want to feel busy again. There's nothing to take my minds off things here," he explained as he passed me the cards.

I put down a set of Jacks and glanced at him. "I just don't want you going in before you're ready,"

"You worry too much," he grinned. His grinning had come back yesterday, I have to say I was glad, I missed it. "It's your go again,"

"Oh," I looked at my cards. "Got any twos?"

He sighed and handed me the cards. I put a set of twos down. "I think we all know you're going to win so can we cut the game short?" he complained. "Can we play basketball?"

"Nope,"

"Why not?"

"Because you'll win, it's not fair,"

"And this is?"

"Let's go for a walk," I suggested.

"Fine, anything to get out of this house,"

He wasn't wrong, his Dad was trying his best but the place was untidy, it hadn't been dusted, laundry and dishes had been left lying, papers were thrown everywhere. It was also terminally dark compared to the sunshine outside. There were no smells from the kitchen anymore.

We walked for a while. Troy was talking very fast about nothing much, how he was going to get the team back in shape when he got back, his plans for a summer job and a car. Regular stuff. From the weeks of not talking everything seemed to have got bottled up and now it was just spilling out in large bursts. I could hardly get a word in. We didn't know where we were going, we just let our feet lead us. They led us straight to the park by Sharpay's house.

We stopped suddenly when we realised where we were. It was the last place we had spoke together before it happened. It seemed so long ago but in reality it was only a few weeks. Troy's eyes dimmed, he stopped talking and his breathing became ragged.

"I don't think school is right for you right now," I said gently.

His eyes snapped to me. "I'm fine!" he shouted. It was the first time I'd seen him genuinely angry and it startled me. "I'm sorry," he said straight afterwards.

"Troy you haven't dealt with it yet, have you talked to anyone?" I pleaded with him.

"What is there to talk about?!" he yelled suddenly and started to pace in front of the gate. "She's dead! She's gone! Nothing can bring her back,"

Every word was like a punch to the gut. Dead. She was dead. Troy stopped pacing.

"I knew it. I knew it before they told us," he said more quietly. "I was in the car, I was sitting next to her,"

It was a shock. I hadn't really thought about him being in the accident. My eyes flicked to the red mark above his eyebrow, it was healing slowly. "What happened?"

He looked hesitant. "We were driving around a corner… it was getting dark and another driver was coming the other way…and, I guess he was drunk or just old, I don't know but he…he kind of drifted into the middle of the road. I saw it but I couldn't yell in time."

He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand like he was trying to squeeze a memory from some dark recess in head. "There was a bang and a scream. I saw her head hit the side window then my head hit the dashboard and… I woke up in hospital," he sat down on the grass bank. "I knew she was dead I just didn't believe it,"

I walked over and sat down next to him. "It's natural to hope," I said.

"There was no hope," he replied "Just denial,"

"That's natural too,"

"If I'd just shouted in time, maybe she'd be here," he said and a tear escaped him, he wiped it away furiously with the back of his fist. I think he was sick of crying.

"It's not your fault," I said sternly "It's that damn driver's, and those damn doctor's and this damn fucked up world,"

"Fucking world," he agreed smiling, enjoying the unnecessary swearing.

"Fuck the world,"

"You look sexy when you swear,"

And I hit him.

"I just miss her," he said.

"I know,"


	9. Chapter 9

_Aren't you guys lucky! Do I get brownie points for squeezing out another chapter or what? High fives all round!_

* * *

It was another week before Troy actually started school again.

I was standing in front of my front door, preparing myself for the day, trying to conquer any negative thoughts I had and replace them with positive. Something that had become harder to do in the past few weeks. The doorbell rang and books went flying, not because it startled me but because I was excited.

I swung open the door. "You!"

"I'm back!" he grinned. "Was that my fault?" he pointed to the spread of books on the floor.

"It's always your fault," And I flung myself at him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. He returned the sentiment.

"I was wondering if I could walk you to school," he chuckled.

I stopped hugging him but I couldn't stop the grin. "You're such a charmer,"

"Guilty," he said as he picked up my books for me.

"Come on," I said "We have to get there quick to help with making the decorations for the fete," I grabbed the arm that wasn't carrying my books and dragged him out of the house. "Bye Mom!" I called behind me. I saw Troy flinch and I immediately felt stupid for bringing up the 'M' word.

"It's ok," he said "People have moms, right? I've got to get used to it,"

I squeezed his hand and gave him a sad smile. We carried on walking but Troy wasn't as talkative as usual, I didn't feel much like conversation either, I just wanted him to turn to me and tell me about the stupid thing Chad did at practice or what he had just learnt on the guitar or flirt a little with me. I missed the flirting.

I didn't call it flirting back then, I called it banter, but now I realised that it was obvious, unashamed flirting.

"Do you want to come to the fete? Because you don't have to if you don't want to," I asked.

"I want to," he assured me and grinned. "Is Zeke baking?"

"Non-stop," I laughed.

After we had made a few paper chains for the fete, we had the first two lessons together. We spent them the way we usually did. Messing around at the back with Chad. Troy had apologised to his friend about the way he had kept him in the dark and told him that he was his best friend and he'll never do it again. This cheered Chad up immensely and he took great pleasure in telling me that he was Troy's favourite whenever Troy had his back turned. I just replied an ominous 'For now,' and he was left to wonder what I was going to do to usurp him from the position of 'Troy's favourite'. I honestly had no idea.

We arrived at the drama room for lunch, it was a haze of colours and activity, laughter and music. All of the group were there, joking and throwing globs of paint at each other. Everyone was a complete mess and extremely happy about it.

"Guys! What are you doing?" I squeaked as Troy and I entered the room. They all stopped, Kelsi wiped paint off of her glasses to see who had entered the room. Sharpay was looking annoyed in the corner with pink paint all down her dress but Ryan looked like he had really broken out of his shell and had green paint all over his face and neck. Then in unison they all pointed at something

"He started it!" They all said.

From behind a turned over table Chad emerged, he was covered in paint from head to toe, his hair was a mixture of green and yellow and the rest of him was red and purple. The only clean bit of him was his teeth which were beaming at us from behind yellow lips.

"You have lessons this afternoon!" I said disbelievingly. Troy was no help at all, he had started laughing and hadn't stopped since he had set eyes on Chad.

Everyone looked guiltily at each other but soon got caught up in Troy's laughter and started laughing too. I couldn't help it, I started laughing too. I looked behind me to look at Troy giggling at his best friend, tears in his eyes. Good tears. Thank God.

Obviously someone (Chad) took my turned head as an invitation. Something wet hit the back of my head and started to trickle down my back.

I screamed and swivelled around to see Chad bent double with laughter. "You're going to pay Danforth!!" I picked up one of the squeezy bottles of poster paints, grabbed his collar and began to squeeze green paint down his back.

"ARGH!" he yelled. Zeke jumped to his rescue.

Then the whole fight commenced again. Troy gallantly said he'd be my bodyguard and took shots for me left, right and centre. Obviously people (Sharpay) thought this was a tad unfair that I got a bodyguard and nobody else did and decided to join forces and get us. Soon even Troy's courageous efforts couldn't stop the onslaught of paint and by that time (because we were running out of paint) liquid soap, which kind of helped get rid of the paint anyway.

We screamed surrender but they were having none of it. It was only until Mrs Darbus entered the room that we thought it wise to stop and look very ashamed of ourselves.

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?" she screamed.

We all pointed at Chad "He started it,"

"I don't care who started it! This is a chapel of the arts, a sanctuary to those who want to search their souls and learn about the fine techniques of drama and acting. It is NOT somewhere that deserves this kind of treatment!!" her face had gone a lovely puce colour by this point. "You shall clean this up at once! Then follow me to the Principals office!!"

Luckily, they had extensively covered the floor with newspaper but there were still few odd splats of paint on the walls, on the uncovered bits of floor and surprisingly there was a rather odd shaped splat on the ceiling that no one could remember throwing.

"It looks a bit like Mrs Darbus," Jason said.

"No, that's definitely Elmo," Taylor argued.

"Only 'cause its red!" Sharpay said.

"No! You can see! Look! Eyes, mouth, arms," Taylor pointed to the relevant body parts.

"Ooooohhh!" we said in realisation.

"What are we looking at?" Ryan asked.

"GET BACK TO WORK!" Mrs Darbus shouted from her desk.

"Yes, Mrs Darbus!" Zeke piped.

We all scurried back to work and hoped that no one would see the strange blob on the ceiling for a _long time_.


	10. Chapter 10

_Sorry, I went to London for the weekend, forgot to tell you guys. Here's the next chapter. I'm starting to wrap it up now and begin planning my next story. A comedy, so look out for that one. _

_Gabriella reacted so badly to Troy's mom's death because she was sharing his pain, its like when you see someone crying you want to cry but you don't know why? Even if you don't know the person. Is that just me?_

_Anyhoo, enjoy and good night. Or good morning, depends where you are in the world. :P_

* * *

It took a while but we managed to finish before the lunch hour was over, there were a few stains here and there and the Elmo blob but nothing too noticeable. It was then that we realised how stupid we looked and started giggling again. The multi-coloured team was marched to the principals office single file through the corridors of milling teenagers who thought it was the best thing since little Sammy John beat up that huge bully in the class above him.

We knew we were in trouble but we couldn't stop smiling. It was funny! And I was smiling because Troy was trying to stop himself laughing before we got to the office and _he_ was laughing because Chad couldn't see. Chad couldn't see because the paint had stuck his hair to his face. Taylor was giggling because she was the one that did it and Martha and Kelsi were laughing because they were accomplices.

Sharpay wasn't laughing. Zeke was trying to chat her up.

Ryan was laughing at that.

We were a line of silent laughter as we all tried to compose ourselves for the principal.

Mrs Darbus knocked on the office door and we heard a muffled come in.

We entered and kept our heads down in theoretical shame. Yes, we were sorry and we'd never do it again….maybe.

Then we heard something that we didn't expect, laughing. I glanced down the row of friends then looked up to see the principal chuckling away as if it was the highlight of his day. It probably was. We _were_ a sight to behold.

If looks could kill Mrs Darbus would have been a serial killer in that moment.

"This isn't a laughing matter," she said sternly.

We were all grinning, teeth shining behind green, yellow, black, red, pink, purple and white. We were a mess.

The principal cleared his throat and tried to look like the strict, responsible adult, a façade that was ruined by the grin.

"Have you cleaned up the mess?" he asked us.

"Yes, sir," we replied in unison.

"Well you can't go to your lessons like that…" He rubbed his chin as if in deep thought. "You might as well take the afternoon off to get cleaned up," he smiled.

We cheered.

Darbus rolled her eyes.

As was the mood of the afternoon we all decided that the best way to get clean was to have a water fight. I can't say any of us were in our right minds; we were just having too much fun. We all piled into my back garden and got whatever we could use as weapons from my kitchen. Bottles, balloons, cups, watering cans, buckets then used the hosepipe as a refill point. Agreeing that whoever had the hose would have an unfair advantage. The way we saw it, we were doing my mom a favour by watering her garden for her. As long as we didn't go near the flowerbeds I figured we were alright.

Soon we got tired of running and playing, we'd been doing it all afternoon after all, and we took turns in hosing the last of the paint of each other.

Zeke started baking us something in the kitchen, I said he could have free range of anything in the cupboard but to leave the freezer alone. Sharpay decided to join him.

Ryan, Martha, Kelsi and Jason were lying in the sun trying to dry off and Taylor was trying to get the paint out of Chad's hair with a sponge and a hairbrush. It didn't look like it was going very well.

Troy was lying down next to me and I was sitting up just watching everyone. All my friends. I had never felt so happy. I couldn't believe my luck. All these amazing, different people were my friends. It didn't really seem possible, jocks, drama queens, nerds, geeks were all sat together, laughing and just enjoying themselves.

Just like kindergarten.

"What are you thinking about?" Troy said quietly beside me.

I looked at him; he seemed sad and thoughtful again. "That we look like such an odd group of people," I replied with a grin. He grinned back and nodded his head in agreement.

He sat up and looked around at our friends. Chad was shouting at Taylor now because she had got the hairbrush stuck in his hair and she was shouting just as fiercely back at him trying to grab for the hairbrush.

"He likes her," Troy said.

"What?" Not sure I was seeing the same thing as him.

"He likes her," Troy repeated smiling. "He has got it bad,"

I looked at them again then looked at Troy's knowing smile then looked back to try and see if I could see the same thing. Taylor had got Chad by the hair and was tugging the hairbrush out slowly, Chad looked in deep pain.

"How can you be sure?" I asked. "They look like they hate each other,"

"How long have I known Chad?" Troy chuckled. "He wants her, why else would he let her touch his hair?"

"Really?" I still didn't quite believe him. "I don't think Taylor would like to know that," Thinking about all the times she called them lunkheads or basketball freaks.

"No, she likes him too," he said. "Why else would she touch his hair?"

"You're so stubborn!" Taylor shouted suddenly.

"You're torturing me!" Chad yelled back.

"Yes, I see what you mean, the perfect couple," I said sarcastically.

Troy laughed. "You just wait; you'll eat those words,"

"I doubt it,"

"Also Jason likes Kelsi," Troy pointed at the couple giggling with each other on the grass.

"You're the regular little matchmaker, aren't you?" I laughed. "That one is pretty obvious, though,"

"Yeah, it helped that he told me he liked her too,"

"Cheat," I punched him on the arm.

"Ow! That hurt!" he said and gave me a mock-offended look.

"No it didn't you baby!" I said.

He punched me on the arm, _hard_.

"OW!"

"It's not nice is it?" he had a mischievous glint in his eye.

"You can't hit a girl!" I said outraged.

"Who says?"

"Everyone!"

"Well everyone is wrong 'cause I just did," he said smugly.

I pounced on him and started tickling mercilessly. I knew a place just below his ribs that would leave him helpless.

"No!" he said. "Not my ribs, please!"

I ignored him, of course.

"I surrender!" he said through fits of laughter.

"What are you not allowed to do?" I said, just to get my point across.

"Hit girls!" he shouted in defeat. I giggled then realised the position we were in. He was looking at me weirdly. It wasn't a funny face or anything it was just … strange. He hadn't looked at me like this before. It was thoughtful, not the sad/thoughtful that he usually had, it was a content/thoughtful. It scared me slightly and it made me very curious to know what was going on behind those blue eyes.

"Good," I broke the look and I got off him in time for Zeke to come out with a plate of steaming cookies. Sharpay followed with a tray of glasses and a jug of water. "Cookies!" I said and pulled Troy up by the hand.

"Hold it!" Zeke shouted, just as everyone started getting up to grab the treats. "They're too hot, five minutes," he said and placed them on the outdoor table.

There were moans of disappointment all round. Taylor took the opportunity to yank the hairbrush out of Chad's hair while he was distracted.

"OWW!!" he yelped.

"See! It's out now!" Taylor pointed at the hairbrush with a large chunk of hair sticking out of it. And the shouting match resumed.

"Yes, I can see them living happily ever after," sarcasm oozed from every one of my pores.

Troy just laughed distantly.

After cookies and water everyone started to leave. Chad and Taylor left together, with my eyes on them and a knowing wink from Troy. Sharpay and Ryan left together after that. Then it was Kelsi, Jason and Martha because they all lived quite close to each other. Everyone hugged and waved goodbye, they all exclaimed how glad they were that Troy was back and Troy smiled with glee.

Soon it was me, Troy and Zeke left. Zeke was tidying and cleaning the kitchen thoroughly. I told him he didn't need to do it but he said he wanted to so Troy and I left him to it. Five minutes later we were sitting in the living room.

"Go fish,"

"I hate this game," Troy complained.

"You just don't have your head in the game," I said. "You're not focusing,"

"You sound like my Dad," he chuckled.

"I should probably go home, he'll be wondering where I am," he said as an after-thought.

From the contemplative look on his face I guessed that his Dad was keeping a very short leash on him these days. I didn't blame him. It was only him and Troy. We packed away the cards and we both agreed that I had won. Troy kept sending me looks. The strange ones.

It was starting to make me nervous again.

We walked to the door in silence, arms brushing against each other. I could tell he wanted to hold my hand but all of a sudden we had become so self-conscious that it was impossible for either of us to say or do anything. I didn't like it. It didn't feel right, being nervous around Troy. Troy was Troy. I decided to bite the bullet. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

"Troy, what's-"

It was difficult for me to finish the sentence because he had spun around and put his lips against mine. It would be an understatement to say I was shocked but I didn't stop him. His hands travelled around my waist. My heart was about to explode. I couldn't breathe. My knees went so weak that I had to put my arms around his neck to keep myself up.

It. Was. Wonderful. I had forgotten why we hadn't done this earlier. Hell, I had forgotten my name.

Just as quickly as it came, it went. He left without a word. He didn't look at me. He closed the door behind him.

* * *

_sorry about the cliffhanger. i like them hehehe_


	11. Chapter 11

_I realise that chapter could be 3 or 4 chapters if I just split it up but I didn't know where so I'm just putting it out so as not to disrupt the flow. Have fun trying to get through this one. It's a lot to read. Also I may have lied about wrapping it up :D I'm guessing about 6 more chapters._

* * *

As far as I could tell I still hadn't taken a breath.

Why did he just leave? Was I bad?

My fingers touched my lips tenderly, they were tingling, buzzing even. Maybe it didn't happen, maybe I just imagined it.

I would've believed that if I wasn't still reeling from the effects of it.

But he ran away. Did he think I was going yell at him? How horrible did he think I was? Who could yell at a kiss like that?

But can I see myself with him? Did I want this?

Yes. I did. I wanted it badly.

Some kind of clarity came over me in that moment and I smiled. My heart full to burst.

The door opened again suddenly. Had he come back? It swung open and my mother came bustling in with all her work bags. I was disappointed but I forgot about it and helped her bring everything in.

"Hi honey," she said, panting with the effort. "I just saw Troy leave in a rush, everything alright?"

"Yep, everything's fine. He just had to get home," I smiled.

"You've got paint in your hair," she laughed and picked it out.

"Oh yeah," I giggled. "I'll tell you later," Was that today? It seemed to have happened an age ago. Zeke! He was still in the kitchen! "Zeke is here, one of Troy's friends. He's cleaning the kitchen,"

My mom looked up with a puzzled expression. "A boy?" she asked.

"Yes,"

"Cleaning the kitchen?" Poor woman, so confused.

"Yes," I replied.

"Done!" Zeke came into the hallway with a proud grin on his face, he was wiping his hands on a dish cloth. "I did the oven for you, Mrs Montez. It looked like it could be tough so I thought I'd save you the effort," he grinned and handed me the dish cloth and gave a small salute. "I got to go! See you tomorrow Gabriella,"

"Thanks Zeke, see you tomorrow!" I waved him out the front door. My mom called a confused thank you then went to study the kitchen.

I followed her. We entered and were almost blinded by the shininess of it.

"This is amazing," my mother breathed. "He can come round more often,"

"Definitely," I agreed.

"He's quite an odd boy, isn't he?"

I nodded.

* * *

I couldn't decide what I was going to do about Troy. Should I just pretend like nothing happened? Or should I confront him? All I knew was that it was going to get worse the longer I left it.

We'd be awkward tomorrow. Will he even come round to walk with me in the morning? I just wish I knew what he was thinking, what he was feeling. Did he think it was a mistake? Because he was still grieving? Because we were friends? Because he was afraid I didn't like him in the same way?

Why wasn't he calling me? Why doesn't he talk as much anymore?

There were too many questions. Too many for me. I was thinking too much. When I thought too much I felt sad. When I felt sad I hid. I didn't want to hide from this. I wanted to take this. I deserved this. After all the years I suffered, I finally felt free and it was because of him.

Should I call him? He must be thinking too much as well. What if he was just acting out because of his mom? Was he using this to get over it?

I let out a strangled cry and pounded the mattress beneath me. He wouldn't do that to me.

If he was, I don't think I'd hold it against him. He must be so confused at the moment.

Should I call him?

I looked at the clock by my bed stand. 00:12.

No I shouldn't call him. Too late.

I sighed. I couldn't do anything now. I'd just have to wait for morning and deal with it then. I looked out the window, the moon was big and full, the night air was warm, there was hardly any breeze. It was one of those peaceful summer nights that you could just lie outside in.

Or go outside in.

Am I that desperate to see him?

…….

Yes I am.

I jumped out of bed then remembered my mother was asleep and started to tiptoe across the room to my clothes drawer. I tugged on a pair of jeans under my night shirt and a worn old sweater over that, not that I needed it on a night like this. I slipped out of my room, grabbing my keys on the way out and drifted down the stairs to my sneakers. I pulled them on and ran out of my house into the night.

I looked back at my front door. Isn't it strange how things looked different at night? The flowers I usually associated with a welcoming home looked dark and not nearly as colourful and inviting. It was like I was escaping.

What if my mom woke up to find I wasn't there? Would she call the police? Probably. I started to think that this wasn't such a good idea after all.

I started walking slowly towards his house. Maybe I just needed the walk. What would I even say when I got there? Would he be angry at me waking him up?All I wanted was to assure him that I was fine and for him to tell me that he was fine.

I'd never done this before. Did I climb up the side of his house? There was nothing to climb up. And wasn't that the man's job anyway? Am I Romeo in this situation? Maybe I should just go home.

A pebble! I needed a pebble to throw at his window. But my aim was lousy. And what if I broke his window? That wouldn't leave a good impression on his dad. I stopped walking and looked back the way I had come. I should just go back home. This wasn't something people did. This wasn't a movie. I mean, what did I expect to happen anyway?

I felt disappointed and relieved at the same time with my decision. It was a stupid thing to do anyway. This wasn't some romance novel where everything was going to be ok because someone threw little stones at your window. I hung back for a second just in case I wanted to change my mind. I think some part of me was begging for my reconsideration.

But it was the negative, rational side of me that won, that squashed the pleas of my heart. I felt exhausted. Tired enough to go to sleep now. I hated myself. If I just had the courage to walk the short distance… I looked back towards Troy's house. I didn't. I just couldn't do it. I'm sorry.

The night seemed cold all of a sudden and the full moon ominous. What if I was abducted on my way back? I never should have left my bed. I started walking quicker and wrapped my arms around myself for warmth.

I looked up. There was a man coming the other way.

My heart raced. What should I do? Should I cross to the other side? He was too close. He'd know it was because of him. I didn't want to hurt his feelings.

I didn't want to hurt his feelings?? What if he was a kidnapper, you moron?

I sped up again, hoping to just walk past quickly. I kept my head down and my eyes averted. He was looking at me. I could feel his eyes on me, searching me. I slipped my hand into my pocket and wrapped my fingers around my keys. If he tried anything I could at least scratch him up a bit. He got closer then he stopped just by me.

"Gabriella?"

What? I let go of my keys and looked up to see Troy with a confused expression on his face. "Troy?"

"What are you doing out here?" he asked.

"I…" Good point, well made. "Er…" Well? What were you going to say? I think I was just too shocked to articulate anything. "What are you doing out here?" I turned it back around on him.

"I…" He scratched his head. "Um…" We were so messed up. I think this was probably the most unromantic thing I had ever witnessed. At least Troy had got halfway to my house. "I was just…" he tried one more time.

I nodded and let the silence peter out.

We just stared at each other, not really knowing how to start or what to do. There was something in that moment that should've told me that now wasn't the right time. It was the fact that I wasn't appropriately excited to see him, instead I was regretting bumping into him. This should've alerted me about my moods but it had been so long since I had felt them that I had begun to forget what the warning signs were that usually told me to go straight to bed and not see anyone for a long time.

"Do you want to go somewhere?" he said after a while.

"Yes," I said, stupidly.

We went back to my house because it was closer. It felt strange letting him in during the middle of the night. My mom was asleep, she didn't know he was here, I felt nervous about my rebellion, however minor. I felt nervous but not the good butterflies-in-your-stomach nervous you usually associated with boys, it was the nervousness of someone waiting for death or to be told they were going to war. It definitely wasn't a good nervous. I snuck into the living room and turned on the small lamp in the corner, afraid that too much light would alert my mother. He followed anxiously, tugging at the sleeves of his jacket and flicking his eyes in all directions but one. My direction.

No one wanted to speak. Nobody even wanted to look at each other. We were both fidgeting, both uncomfortable. Me for different reasons than him. As I look back on this night I still feel incredibly stupid for not reading my moods. I guess I wanted so much to be around him that I just wasn't thinking. I didn't want to read them. I didn't want to acknowledge that there were still times when happiness seemed to pass me by in a hurry.

It was so awkward I felt like crying. It was _this_ moment that I realised that I was not right. Not well. It was too late. All that was running through my head was the thought that maybe we _had_ ruined what we had. Maybe we were just meant to be friends. Maybe I wasn't meant to have love. I sat down on the couch and put my head in my hands. A kiss could've been just as disastrous as if we insulted each others families, it would have the same affect on the friendship. Coldness, distance.

I started to panic, I couldn't talk to him when I was this bad. I tried to grab for the happy thoughts but they eluded me, I thought about the good memories but it was like I was remembering someone else's life. That girl that was throwing paint at him earlier was not me and, as far as I was concerned, didn't act like me at all. She was having fun. I didn't have fun. It felt like I had never been happy and never was meant to be happy.

My hopes were flattened and mocked by my own mind. I was such a complete moron for thinking that I deserved to be happy again. I was _so stupid_.

The tears started to build up, I tried to blink them back but I was so tired and it was so hopeless. Why try to pretend I was normal.

Troy stood, watching me. I don't think he really knew what was happening to me. I just wished he would go away and leave me to my misery. The first tear hit my cheek, I attempted to hide it but he saw. He stopped fidgeting and rushed to my side. He may have been talking, I'm not sure as I look back, all I could do was be consumed by my thoughts and feelings.

"Troy, I don't think this is the right time…" I said quietly.

It must have been lying dormant, this monster in me, just waiting for the pivotal moment, when I was most happy, to tear it away from me and laugh. Oh, it laughed. Laughed loudly and scathingly because when I felt this way, it thrived and grew stronger in my desolation.

Oh God. It hurt so much, not to be able to see the light. The good. The joy. I was thrown into a prison and left to rot.

I forced myself to listen to him but it was difficult. I get so wrapped up in negativity that it's hard to break through it to the real world.

"…I really think now is the right time. I'm sorry, I never meant to make you upset. We need to talk about it," I caught the end of the speech. He thought it was his fault I was crying. It may have been. I'm never really sure why my moods change, if I knew that I'd have been able to fix it by now.

"Go away, go home," I wish I could've come out with something not so likely to hurt his feelings but I was so focused on not surrendering to mine and breaking down that I just didn't have the eloquence.

He carried on arguing his right to stay. I couldn't argue back, I didn't have the resources. It was making me frustrated with him but also mostly with myself. All I had to do was explain but no explanation came to mind. A simple sentence, but no words arrived.

I crawled into a foetal position instead. I knew it wasn't going to help but like a two year old I thought if I'd just ignored the problem it might go away. Not the most sophisticated thinking but, as I said, my thoughts were preoccupied. On death by this point. How nice it would be to just stop existing for a while. Not to kill myself but just to fade and be forgotten as if I had never been there at all. I kind of envied his mother. How lucky she was.

I don't think he really knew what to do. I wasn't acting like a normal person at all, he was getting annoyed, for sure, but because of his niceness he didn't complain and tell me I was being an idiot. Instead he tried to hug me but I shrugged him off. This hurt him the most. This hurts me the most when I remember it. When we were in the hospital together the night his mom died he could've just as easily shrugged me off the same way I did him. But he had recognised that I needed to hug him as much as he needed the hug.

He was asking me what was wrong. How do I explain this to him? Why did it have to happen now? Why did I think that having friends was a good idea? Why did I even get up today? What was the point in school anyway? I hate him. I hate everyone.

I tried taking deep breaths to calm myself down. I was starting to panic. I glanced at his face. It was so worried, it looked guilty. He thought this was his fault. That made me feel worse than ever.

"Troy, just…just…I'm not…It's not…I just can't…" Starts of sentences seemed to be all I had. He was confused.

If I could've just said something coherent, just get past this thought that I might lose him I might've been able to stop the feeling, stop the monster in its tracks, but I just couldn't. I was so scared of him not being with me that I had no strength left to fight it.

"Troy, just go, ok?" I said pressing my heels of my hands into my eyes to stop the tears. "We'll talk later," I was starting to get so jumpy and terrified that he'll see what I'm really like that I wished he would just leave. I was also scared that he _would_ leave before I could let him know that I didn't hate him. So I wanted him to leave but I wanted him to stay? I was starting to shake with the fear of him doing either.

"Are you feeling alright? Are you ill? You're shaking," he said softly.

He tried to pull my arms away from my face, trying to get me to look at him, but I screamed. I actually shrieked at him. How stupid, I know, but it was a reaction. I didn't want to be touched. He had jumped back, knocking a mug off of the coffee table behind him.

It hit the ground with a crash.

"Gabby?" A new, tired voice entered the voice and I saw the light switch on. "What happening in here? What are you doing!?" I had never heard my mother so angry. Troy scrambled to his feet to create a good distance away from me. "What were you doing to her?!!" she was outraged.

"N-Nothing," Troy said anxiously. "I don't know what's wrong,"

I tried. I did. I tried so hard to calm down. This wasn't making Troy look good at all. I wanted to be normal now. I wanted to stop being like this. I was just pushing him away. The monster knew it, it was the one that wanted it to happen. It wanted me to suffer. I could hear my mom shouting and Troy's feeble confusion.

"What happened?" My mom rushed over to me finally. That's all I wanted. I wanted my mom. I latched myself onto her and she started stroking my back.

"Nothing happened, I just arrived. I hadn't even started talking," Troy replied. His voice was cracking. I glanced at him. He had tears in his eyes.

No.

I just had to stop now; he wasn't going to feel bad about this. I took deep breaths and closed my eyes.

"What do you think you were doing here in the middle of the night?" she asked him.

"I…" Troy didn't have an answer for that. "Is she ok?" That's all he really wanted to know.

"She's going to be just fine," Mom said gently, she wasn't angry anymore. She'd figured out what was wrong now. I was going to be fine. I was going to be fine. Some day I would never have to feel this again. Today was just not that day. But I was going to be fine.

I let go of her and ran to Troy and wrapped my arms around him instead. He was slightly surprised but he joined the hug after the initial shock. I had my head resting in his neck and he buried his face into my hair.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

He didn't say anything; he was still trying to make sense of everything. So was I. The mood change was so out of the blue that I'd had no time to prepare myself for it

I could feel my breathing calm down, I felt I could open my eyes but not look. I just took in his smell, I don't think there is anything quite like the way Troy Bolton smells. It smells of safety and warmth and love.

"Troy?" My mother interrupted us. I collapsed back onto the couch and hid my face from him. I was so embarrassed. Why did he have to see me freak out? "Let me drive you home," she said gently. "Gabby? He's worried about you," she coaxed me like I was a child again. "Can you look at him?"

"No," I mumbled.

"It's ok Mrs Montez," he said, jokily. "I wouldn't want to look at me either, it's not a pretty sight,"

I let out a small sad laugh as they left.

What a bitch I was. Couldn't I even look at him?

It didn't matter. He'll never speak to me again anyway.

* * *

Mom came back a few minutes later. I was lying down on the couch, I had calmed myself down and thinking a bit more clearly. It didn't mean I was feeling any better, if anything I was feeling worse. Why couldn't I control this? It was just hormones, synapses and chemicals, wasn't it? Why can't I be happy for any length of time before I have to ruin it?

She walked into the room and sat down on the floor near my head. "You were doing so well. What went wrong?" she read my mind.

I shrugged. The droplets fell silently from my eyes. The last of the tears tonight, I decided stubbornly. "Did you tell him what was wrong?" I asked.

"No," she said. "Not that he didn't ask. Are _you_ going to tell him?"

"I think so,"

"I think he'd like to know," she agreed with a smile. She started to stroke my hair. "He's very fond of you,"

I smiled back. "I know,"

She kissed my forehead and we sat in silence for a while. It was an old routine. She stayed beside me until I was asleep. It was half to make sure I didn't do anything stupid like hurt myself and it was half to let me know that she loved me no matter what I did.

"Mom?"

"Yes honey?" she said sleepily.

"Do you think I'll ever get rid of this?"

"Yes," she said firmly. "I have never met anyone as strong as you and no one as stubborn. You'll beat it. You're going to be happy,"

"Sometimes… I'm not so sure,"

"Well, you never were that good at looking ahead," she joked.

I smiled. She was right, I was terrible at it.

* * *

_Now, this is not always the norm for people who are depressed but in my depression (because it derives from my anxiety) I get panic attacks, which is what Gabriella got. I could've written a more common reaction to depression but I'm afraid it wouldn't be as truthful as if I took something from my own experience. So there ya go. This is just a note to say not all depressed people get panic attacks. Only the ones like me. :P_


	12. Chapter 12

_I may have also lied about having another story ready after this one. That idea fell through. __**mysupermanwillcome: **__where've you been? Lol. I'm sorry I thought I made it clear. Reread chapter 3._

* * *

"It's time to wake up," My mom shook me awake. "School time,"

I was still on the couch but now I had a blanket wrapped around me and my shoes had been taken off. It was morning, bright and early.

I couldn't care less. I wasn't getting up.

"Come on!" Mom said brightly. "It's a nice day!"

"Leave me alone," I mumbled into the cushion.

"If you don't go people will miss you, what about Troy? He'll worry,"

She was clever, I'll give her that. Crafty even. Bringing Troy into it. I opened one eye then closed it again.

"No," I said stubbornly.

"If you don't get up, he'll be around and you'll still be in your night shirt. Won't that be embarrassing?"

"No," I said "He probably won't be around anyway. He'll never want to speak to me again after last night,"

"I ordered him to come back," she said mischievously.

"You _ordered_ him?" I said disbelievingly. "You're not an army General, mom. You can't _order _people around,"

"Watch me," she challenged but walked into the kitchen and started cooking pancakes.

I stayed where I was. If I went to school I'd just end up crying in front of everyone anyway.

Mom came back a few minutes later with a plate of pancakes, she placed them in front of me and wafted the smell into my face by waving her hand. I didn't touch them.

I went back to sleep. Thankful for the peace it brought me. There was no one to bother me when I slept, nothing to fear, no pressure to do anything. I could sleep for days, the only problem was that I knew for however long I slept I'd still wake up as exhausted as I was when I went to bed.

I woke again when the doorbell rang.

"I can't get her to do anything," I heard my mom sigh as she told him. "You can try if you want,"

He entered the room, looking clean and as handsome as ever. He chucked his bag down and came over to sit near my head. I watched him all the way but I didn't move. What was he doing back here? Did he enjoy my misery or his? Because he was going to get a big helping of both.

"Are you eating those?" he asked, pointing to the now cold pancakes.

"No," He was such a freak sometimes.

He reached out for the plate and put it in his lap and started eating. I started to get hungry. Damn him. He cut a slice of pancake and held it out in front of my face. The he waved it around tauntingly. Then he started making airplane noises.

I let out a small laugh.

"That's better," he said and ate the slice himself.

He cut another piece and held it in front of my face again. I was starting to get annoyed with him now. Did he think I was three years old? Why was he even here? Didn't he have Chad or some other moron to annoy?

"Is this piece mine or yours?" he asked while waving the piece tantalisingly in a figure of eight.

"Yours," I mumbled.

He ate the piece and cut another. "This is good pancake, why would you leave it?" he asked. "Mine or yours?" he shoved another piece in my face.

"Just have it all, I'm not hungry," I buried my face in the cushion so he could shove anymore food in it and so I didn't have to watch him be nice to me.

"But there's so much of it," he replied.

"Then throw it away,"

"But your mom made it,"

"Do you ever stop being nice?" I growled.

"Nope," he said simply. I don't think he ever lied either.

Needless to say, he ate the entire plate of pancakes, said goodbye to my mom for me as she left for work and returned to sit next to me. It was silent, he shuffled around a lot as he took off his jacket and got comfortable on the floor. I realised after a while that he wasn't going to leave. I sighed in frustration.

He was breathing loudly. And he was picking at the loose threads in the carpet.

"Go to school," I ordered.

"No," he replied childishly. "You go to school,"

I sent a muffled scream into my cushion. Why was he so annoying? Go away, go away, go away. GO. AWAY. Why did my mom leave him here? It's like leaving a kitten with a pissed off lion then letting the kitten eat the lion's pancakes! Was she insane?

"You're going to be late," I argued and pulled my face out of the cushion.

"So are you," he smiled. I realised I probably had the worst hair in the world at that moment. "You have the worst hair at the moment,"

Could he read thoughts? Or could I?

"It doesn't matter because I'm not going in," I said and I turned over so I was facing the back of the couch and not him.

"Fine," he said with finality.

Thank god. I think he was actually going to stop talking to me and leave.

"Then I'm not going in either,"

Oh crap. Did that mean he was staying? I wish he'd go away and come back when I was nicer and sweeter and more able to cope with people.

"Go away," I mumbled.

"And where would I go?"

"SCHOOL!" I yelled at him.

"You look sexy when you're angry,"

Instead of laughing, I cried.

Please, just let him leave. He didn't though. He sat there, regretting his words and stroking my back. He didn't try and get me to look at him, he didn't say a word. Why would he want to be here? Even my mom didn't like being around me when I was like this. I was cruel and mean. I was just no fun at all.

And here was this boy, who I had only known for two months, taking my good sides with the bad and those with the seriously ugly. Why? Why did he even care?

"Why won't you go?" I asked weakly when the tears stopped.

"I can't go without you," he replied honestly.

"Why not?"

"I'd never be able to cope," he said sadly. "Not since my mom…"

Oh God. He really couldn't leave. He needed me? I'm no good, why did he choose me to get him through this? I am possibly the worst choice in the world. Even worse than Hitler. At least Hitler could get him to school.

I sighed.

"Can you get my hairbrush?" I asked him.

He got up obediently and left the room in search of my hairbrush. I sighed again. I do that a lot. Everything is such an effort, such a task. I didn't want to have to look after Troy's well-being as well as my own but he was doing the same for me. He had his problems but he was still here making sure I was ok.

He came back.

"There's still quite a lot of Chad's hair in it," I looked up; he was peering at the furry mess like he'd just unclogged it from a drain. I laughed. "Here you go," he waved it at me.

"No!" I yelled. "It's gross!"

"It's just hair," he chuckled but he was still looking at it as if it might sprout fangs and bite him.

"Get it out for me?" I pleaded with him.

"No way, you're on your own," he said and chucked it at me.

"Ew," I threw it away. "Get my mom's hairbrush," I said.

He smiled and left the room again.

I managed to pick myself up into a sitting position. I rubbed my eyes to get the sleep out of them but just managed to make myself more tired. This wasn't going to work. I can't go to school today. I'll just have to persuade him to go without me.

He came back with my mom's hairbrush, he handed it to me and I quickly ran it though my untamed hair until it looked vaguely presentable.

"Are you going to have a shower?" he asked.

I shook my head. Personal hygiene didn't really matter to me at the moment. I had one last night to get paint out of strange places. I have no idea how I got red paint in my armpit but such is the mystery of life.

"Are you going to get changed?"

I looked down at my rumpled appearance, I'd probably feel a bit better with some nice clothes on. I nodded and dragged myself off the couch and towards the stairs. He followed me. I think it was make sure I didn't fall over and break something but I stopped him before I started on the stairs.

"I can manage on my own," I told him.

He nodded. "Do you want something to eat now?" he asked.

"Are you offering to cook?" I asked incredulously.

"No, but I can do toast or cereal? Or I could fry bacon?" he said feebly. "My culinary skills aren't really up to scratch,"

"I don't want anything," I said and began to climb the stairs.

"Toast it is then," he said cheerily and headed for the kitchen.

I just rolled my eyes.

I washed and dressed quickly. Nothing too nice. Just some clean jeans and a plain black top. I didn't feel like looking nice today. I tumbled down the stairs two at a time, I didn't want to leave Troy in the kitchen, alone, any longer than I absolutely had to.

He looked up from a book he was reading as I came in and smiled sweetly at me. I smiled back and collapsed into a chair at the table. He pushed a plate of toast at me and then some butter and then he pushed a knife towards me. Neither of us said anything, he just looked at the golden toast then he gave me a look that said I better eat it or he'd be hurt.

I sighed and took a mouthful toast.

He smiled.

Manipulative bastard.

I can't say how long we sat at that kitchen table. I think I resigned myself to the fact that he wasn't going to leave in the first few minutes after I finished my toast. He sat reading what I discovered was my mother's cook book for a while then got bored and took to staring out the window into the garden. I remembered yesterday and how happy I'd been. With my friends. It seemed a shame that I was such a miserable sod today.

I looked at Troy, his face was in a thoughtful frown. We were both thinking the same thing. We wanted to go back to how it was before all this happened. When he was the cocky young boy curious about the new girl with an attitude problem. The boy who still had a mother. And came home to a cooked meal. And laughed with her. And talked about girls with.

She'd thought we were a couple. She'd laughed with me. Troy had come in with those awful shoes. I looked down and spotted them on his feet.

Troy sighed and turned away from the window to see me studying him. He smiled sadly at me.

"I'm not going to school today," I said. "It's ok if you stay here,"

He nodded.

"We are so screwed up," he laughed at us. I could see his point.

I laughed too. We did look like a couple of emotional freaks, crying over breakfast. "Do you want to play Go Fish?" I asked.

That made him laugh more.


	13. Chapter 13

_Last two chapters guys! Thank you so much for your heart-felt reviews. I'm so glad that this story has touched people. You don't know how much it means to me that you feel I have correctly represented depression (even in my sort of light-hearted view of it). So many people don't know exactly what it is and I feel honoured that I am part of their education. (Gasp! I just said the 'e' word! That's right I fooled you all. This story is __**educational**__. Dun dun daaaaaaaaaaun!!) Please don't stop reading. I'm coming back with some more stuff in a couple of months after I catch up with the school work I should've been doing when I was writing this. :P Love you all!_

* * *

"Go fish," I said.

"Why do I keep agreeing to this?" Troy complained and picked up a card.

"Because you love me," I said it but it was only until it was out there and I heard it back that I cringed and wished I hadn't said anything at all.

Troy grinned and tried to hide the tell-tale signs on his face behind his cards. I giggled. What the hell, I'd done it now. No point getting all awkward. It'd only make us both nervous and unhappy.

"And you just _love_ to torture me," he replied, smiling his face off, I couldn't be torturing him that badly then.

"That I do," I agreed.

"You're not meant to agree,"

"Sorry,"

Troy took the cards out of my hand and gave me his. "I want this hand now,"

"You can't do that!" I said, indignant at his blatant cheating.

"Watch me,"

I didn't. I tackled him instead.

* * *

"You're not stirring it right," I told him.

"There's a right way of stirring something?" He really had no clue about baking. We were in my kitchen again. In about half an hour we had undone all of Zeke's hard work by Troy exploding a bag of flour all over the place. We had it in our hair, in our eyelashes and we both looked about a half-tone lighter than we normally would have.

"You have to get the stuff from around the edges of the bowl!" I said.

"I am!"

"No you're not!" I tried grabbing the spoon from him but he took it out of my reach.

"I want to do it!" he protested.

I huffed and put my hands on my hips. I wiped some more flour off my face and watched him stir it all wrong. "Troy!" I whinged. I flicked some stray strands of hair out of my eyes.

"I'm getting the stuff around the sides!" he objected. Then grinned. "You flick your hair when you're annoyed,"

I know I do, I wasn't surprised he knew either, for all the times I've gotten irritated with him. I waited for him to feel like he'd finished. He put down the bowl and turned to look at the cook book. I grabbed he bowl and stirred it properly before he turned around again. He looked at me. Then at the bowl.

"Did you just stir that?"

"No," I said innocently.

"Liar," he accused me. I just grinned. "Ok, the eggs now,"

"Don't get shell in it," I warned him.

"I won't!" he said as he grabbed the eggs and took one out of its packet. "I know how to crack an egg,"

"Hmmm…" I didn't quite believe him.

Well, he got shell in it, just as I had predicted. He was trying his best but he became very protective over the cake he was baking like he wanted to prove he could do it just as well as anyone else. It became very hard for me to give him any instruction and we started arguing every few minutes. He usually defused it by throwing more flour at me though. I can't remember why we wanted to make a cake, it was a combination of not wanting to play Go Fish one more time, hunger and boredom. Plus Troy said he wanted to see if he could do it.

Those were as good reasons as any. After making the mixture, putting it in a cake tin and preparing the icing we just had to wait. It was here that we realised that we still needed something to eat while we waited for the cake to come out.

We were sat on the floor, covered in flour, sharing a large bag of chips watching the oven window as if it were a television set.

"How do you think it'll taste?" I asked him.

"Horrible," he said.

I laughed.

"Are you ok now?" he enquired, looking at me curiously. I still hadn't told him what exactly was wrong with me and why I reacted the way I did. I must say, he was incredibly patient. Any other person would've demanded an explanation the moment they came through the door.

But am I ok? How do I answer that? I thought I was ok yesterday then this happened.

"For now, I'm ok," I replied.

He nodded but I could tell he still wanted to ask me more questions. "Was it me?"

"No," I said quickly. "I just…"

I had never really told anyone before, I'd never known anyone long enough and well enough to get to this level of sharing. How do I do it? Do I just blurt it out? It seemed like the best way. If I made it as scientific as possible maybe it won't feel so embarrassing.

"You don't have to tell me," he said before I could get anything out. I felt relieved. "But you'll tell me when it's something I've done, right?" He was searching my face.

I nodded. "It wasn't anything you did," I said to reassure him.

"I want to tell you about it," I decided firmly. It wouldn't be fair on him if I didn't. And I knew him. He would sit there and worry about me and take all my abuse without knowing why I was being horrible.

"I suffer from depression," It felt strange, saying it aloud. He looked wide-eyed and confused for a moment.

"Why?" he asked.

"Why?" What sort of question is that? That's like asking someone 'Why do you anaemia?' It's an illness, I didn't do it to myself.

"Did something happen to make you like that?" he asked. I managed to reign in my temper long enough to realise he was just trying to understand, he looked concerned and sort of helpless. He was one of those happy people that couldn't see why other people got sad for no reason.

"No, nothing happened. Well…it was probably an accumulation of things," I conceded. "There'll just be sometimes when I won't want any company and won't feel happy," I said. "Do you think you can deal with that?"

He nodded, he seemed to accept that. "Can you deal with me still wanting to be around you when you're like that?" He smiled.

I was _never_ going to get rid of him. That wasn't such a bad thing anymore.

I let out a small laugh. "I'll try,"

He cleared his throat. "I need to say something now," he said. I regarded him thoughtfully, happy to get the subject off of myself. "About yesterday afternoon, I'm sorry I got scared," He was talking about the kiss. The dreaded topic.

He was looking at me that way again. It wasn't so strange now and it wasn't so scary. I think I quite liked him looking at me like that. His eyes were dark, they had a sort of underlying thought beneath them, it excited me but it also made me nervous. I realised that when the time came I'd just have to jump for it and try not to think too much. Was the time now?

"I just didn't think I could cope with any rejection," he elaborated. "Not after everything,"

It made me feel cold thinking about the way I reacted last night. That would've seemed like a rejection to him.

"If you want, we can just go back to how we were before?" The look was fading from his eyes; it was being replaced with sadness. I don't think he really liked that idea.

I don't think I liked that idea either. As much as I loved being his friend, I think I'd love what happens next just as much. I think I'd love him more.

I loved him.

There was an aching in my chest and my breathing got shallower. It was strange how love and fear seemed to elicit the same reactions from your body. Except with love, you were happier.

And I wasn't saying anything. I knew this was a critical time to tell him how I felt but I just didn't know how to start. What did I say? I didn't want him to run away again.

Troy nodded in acceptance. Oh God. He thought I was rejecting him. I opened my mouth to say something but no sound came out, I wasn't really sure what I'd have said even if noise had passed my lips.

He was turning away to get up. No! I grabbed his jacket and pulled him back down. He collapsed back down to the ground and looked at me with a startled expression that seemed to ask 'Well, what do you want?'

I wanted him. I reached out and touched the scar over his eye with the tips of my fingers. I was so thankful for him.

He stroked a thumb across my cheek and tangled his fingers in my hair.

He leaned in until we were very close, millimetres apart. I felt his breath whip over my lips. I raked my fingers through his hair until they were playing with the short hairs at the nape of his neck then I pulled him the remaining distance.

Such a wonderful feeling, soft lips, soft hair, rough fingers stroked my jaw and moved down my neck to my shoulders. He was tentative and a little unsure. I just wrapped my arms around his shoulders and dragged him closer.

He shifted his body around to compensate for my actions and got more confident because of it. We forgot who we were for a moment. Drowning in each other. He had put his hands around my waist and they started to travel over my hips and back.

I giggled. Mostly because I realised who it was that was doing this to me. It was both funny and just perfect all at once. Troy, my friend, the guy who makes fart jokes with Chad at every possible moment, was kissing me.

He started to smile too. "Stop it," he whispered against my lips.

I obeyed.

I started kissing him again, more forcefully to let him know I wanted this, we were saying goodbye to a platonic friendship and I had no regrets. He pushed my lips apart with his. I couldn't feel my legs anymore so it was a good thing we were already sitting down or I would've fallen. There was a light feeling in my abdomen and I could hear wind whishing around my head, making me dizzy and light-headed.

Every touch, tingled, every breath mingled, every sound was treasured by me. Small moans, sharp breaths. Everything was soft and out of focus, his lips were sweet and his smell invaded my nostrils, musky, spicy, warm. He tasted good. Kissing was way underrated. For all the stuff they said and everything in the movies, it was way better when you actually had the living, moving, warm sensations that made your heart beat that little bit faster, your stomach twist and your eyelids flutter. And even better when it was with someone you love. Someone you've been through so much with.

I wished it wouldn't end but it had to obviously. Ours stopped because the cooker pinged to indicate it's completion.

We broke apart, breathing heavily. Foreheads still touching so his eyes were looking straight into mine. He had beautiful eyes. I think I mentioned that before but his eyes are so beautiful I think I have to say it again.

"Cake's done," I whispered. We were too close to talk at normal volume.

"I can't get up, you're on top of my legs," he was grinning like the cat that got the canary.

I looked down; at some point I seemed to have straddled his legs. How embarrassing. Strange, how I didn't seem to care.

I got off him and stood up to get to the cooker. He followed my lead and picked up the oven mitts off the side. I turned down the heat and opened the door and he brought the cake out. It looked good.

"Do you think its ok?" he asked me worriedly. It was funny how attached he had gotten to this cake. Would he even let us eat it?

"It's perfect," I said. "Just needs icing,"

He nodded. "Do you think I did my mom proud?"

Suddenly his attachment to the cake all became clear. His possessiveness in the making of it was more understandable. He didn't look sad the way he normally did when he talked about his mom. He was smiling as if he knew the answer to his question already.

I nodded and grinned at him.

He gave me an impulsive kiss on the lips and got the bowl of icing we had prepared earlier and we started to finish off the cake.

When it was completely done we took a step back to study it. This cake could've won prizes. I may be a bit biased so I wouldn't quote me on that. And we may have gone a tad over-the-top on the decorations but it was a fine cake. Troy put his arm round my shoulders and I put my arm around his waist. And we stood like proud parents.

"Would it be weird if I said I didn't want to eat it anymore?" Troy asked.

I laughed. "I knew you were going to say that,"

* * *

_PS: I lied, it's not really educational. I'd never do that to you. It's fun._


	14. Chapter 14

_Last chapter "sniff" I just want to say that I couldn't have asked for a lovelier bunch of people to read the ramblings of a mad woman. You are all great! __**carly may:**__ He was telling her to stop giggling. I don't know if you've had the pleasure but it's very difficult to kiss someone when they are laughing at you. __**Galaen:**__ You are absolutely right about depression not being something to be ashamed of. But some people, like me, want to keep it a private thing (until they write about it on the internet :P). It's probably not as healthy as getting it out in the open but it's just the way people feel. I LOVE how you can speak so openly about it. I need to learn how to do that._

* * *

We went to school the next day. We had planned to keep the relationship low-key so I didn't get put on any cheerleaders' hit-lists.

Our plan backfired, however, when we walked into the homeroom that morning. We must've been walking too close or giving each other a look because Chad seemed to know instantly. "You made out!!" was his delicate way of putting it, shouting it across the room from amongst a crowd of giggling cheerleaders.

Troy got his revenge by shouting "Chad loves Taylor!" when he entered the cafeteria that lunchtime.

Needless to say, Chad was not in a good mood after that.

On the other hand Taylor was practically floating.

This must've been my shortest recovery from a bad patch to date. It seemed that our friendship was still very much intact but it was so much more, and we got the added bonus of kissing in every free moment. Although, the bad points were that things that didn't matter as much when we were just friends seemed to become very important all of a sudden.

Like when he wasn't listening properly or when I didn't understand why he acted one way about a situation that little arguments seemed to arise. Or when I was feeling down and he wanted me to feel happy on that particular day. Or just basically when our personalities seemed to clash instead of mesh. I didn't mind the arguments much because I knew that when the argument was over we'd both say sorry, even if it was the fault of only one of us, and we'd be closer for it.

One of these arguments happened the morning before the fete. We had been putting up the decorations and stalls around the school field. Making sure there were places where people could stand in the shade and get refreshments.

"Troy, I hate those shoes, please wear the other ones," I said off-hand while I tied some balloons to a post. I was feeling grumpy, not depressed just ruffled the wrong way. It was a lot of effort to put into one day, I wanted everything to be perfect so that the Bolton's felt we had really done a good job. And he was wearing those horrible, dirty sneakers. On a day like this? A special event? It wasn't like some stupid high school event; we were carrying on his mother's work.

"What's your problem with these shoes?" he snapped (a little unfairly). "Can't you accept that I like them?" He was working hard too.

"They aren't appropriate!" I said turning around to face him now.

"How aren't they appropriate? I think-"

"I think they need to be thrown out," I interrupted crabbily. "This is a special day, wear your game shoes,"

"Game shoes are only for games!" he shouted. I told him that it was ok to shout at me when I was being an idiot and, unfortunately, now he'd gotten used to it. He wasn't so timid anymore. "These shoes _are_ special,"

I think what made this fight unique was because this time it was all in front of our friends. They had all stopped what they were doing to watch. They had been making jokes earlier in the week about how perfect we were, about how we were going to have a perfect house with a perfect dog and a perfect white picket fence. It didn't bother us that much because we knew that we were anything but perfect as people and, at times, we were bound to collide. This was one of those times.

"No they are not!" I said angrily. "Your game shoes are special, you need to wear them. Those shoes are saying that you don't care,"

"I care," he said, I could hear the hurt in his voice and was about to take it back when he carried on. "Don't be moody today," he said to me and began putting up the decorations again. Moody is our code word for depressed. It's usually uttered in a kind way when he wants to make sure he doesn't push me too hard but this was said resentfully.

But I can't believe he just said that in front our friends! I don't bring up his personal issues!

He started talking again before I could react. "I want to wear these shoes, they are special _to me_. They are the shoes-"

"They are the shoes that everyone is going to laugh at," I said, spitefully, in retaliation.

As I said before, I can remember having this conversation, but back then we were friends but now we were a couple and everything was intensified. It may have seemed like an argument about shoes but it wasn't. It was an argument about independence within the relationship on his part and I just wanted him to recognise that I had an important point and not _every_ bad mood should be ignored. Halfway through the argument I couldn't care less what shoes he wore.

"I don't care if people laugh at them!" he said "Will you stop interrupting me?"

"Will you stop treating what I say as if it's a personal attack on you?"

"You _are_ attacking me!"

"No I'm not!"

"Forget it!" He threw the decorations to the floor. "You're not going to listen,"

He walked out and off the field.

I flicked the hair out of my face huffily and picked up the discarded decorations and finished his job for him. Our friends hadn't moved yet. I had been ignoring them until I heard snuffling.

I swivelled around to see Kelsi trying to stop herself from crying. Jason had a protective arm around her.

"Why are you crying?" I snapped then realised how mean I sounded. "Sorry Kelsi, I didn't mean to shout. What's wrong?"

"She's scared that you're breaking up," Jason spoke for her then handed her a tissue.

"Is everything alright with you guys?" Taylor asked anxiously.

"Guys!" I laughed. "It's just a fight, we're not breaking up!"

"We've never see you fight before," Chad said. "I don't think I've seen Troy so angry since I broke his spud gun in fourth grade,"

"Do you think he was really upset?" I said looking after where he had disappeared.

"He must've had a reason for wanting to wear the shoes," Sharpay said authoritatively "Nobody would wear shoes like that otherwise,"

They all nodded and I felt stupid.

"I'd better go and find him," I sighed.

Well I searched everywhere, in the gym I found his father, he said he hadn't seen him. Coach Bolton looked older now but he was slowly getting better. He was a lot quieter than he had been but still managed to boom his voice in sport's lessons. He was a man healing. Troy was still healing too, I shouldn't have started a fight with him today.

I looked in the changing rooms briefly then in the drama room, flicked my eyes upward towards Elmo as I always do, then searched everywhere else I could think of. I tried calling his cell, then his home phone but nobody was picking up.

I flicked the hair out of my face and went back to the field to where the guys were finishing up. People were already arriving to set up stalls and entertainment. It was going to start in a few minutes and Troy was going to miss it. I couldn't help feeling annoyed with him. It was just selfish. All the work I had put in.

I gave one last call on his cell then to his home phone and went to join the gathering crowd in front of the stage. There was going to be a speech before the fete started. Something to remind us why we were there.

Coach Bolton took the stage and stood awkwardly behind the microphone.

"To start I would like to thank everyone who is here today to partake in what has become such a wonderful event," he started shakily. "I know my wife would've loved to be here to see you all. I must confess that she probably knew all your names better than I do. That was just who she was. She had time for everyone; she was a mother to many, a sister to all she knew and friend to those she hadn't yet had the pleasure. She loved to touch people's lives and invested most of her time to charity work. In that respect this will be a charity event.

I'd like to say that if it weren't for love and support of this town and this amazing school my son, Troy, and I probably wouldn't be able to make it here…"

I looked around for Troy. Why was he missing this?

"Before the accident I can remember her telling me enthusiastically about the plans she had for this bake sale. I think this is far beyond her expectations and far beyond what she could've even dreamed up. This has meant so much to Troy and I that I just wanted to say one great Thank you to everyone whoever knew Susan and whoever knew what a pleasure it was to be around her.

So thank you,"

Mr Bolton cleared his throat and left the stage. People gave a sad ripple of applause, their minds very much on Susan. Those who near her very well were there to greet him off the stage. Kelsi started playing a small number on the piano, it wasn't a sad piece, just something to lighten the mood slightly and let people know that it was time to get into positions ready for the guests.

Tears were threatening to fall. I could believe that Troy had missed his Dad's speech. I walked over to the shade under the trees. I should've been at a stall with Chad and Taylor but I had a looming feeling that I was about to have a little crying session.

I flipped open my cell one last time, found Troy in my contacts and pressed it against my ear. To my surprise the familiar ring tone was coming from behind me. I got off the tree I was leaning on and walked around to the other side to find Troy sitting beneath the branches.

He had tears in his eyes too. He hadn't started crying yet. He had told me yesterday that he had been rationing his tears otherwise people might think he was a wimp if he cried too much. I had replied that anyone who thought he was a wimp was a moron.

I sat down next to him, pulled his arm around me and leaned my head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry. You can wear the shoes if you want," I said feebly.

He chuckled. "I'm sorry I said you were in a mood when you weren't," So he did know how to tell the difference between depressed and just grumpy. "…and for walking out in the middle of an argument….and for shouting…and for saying you were attacking me-"

"Troy, one sorry covers all those things. I don't need a list," I joked and nudged him. "I wasn't listening before. Please tell me why you want to wear the shoes,"

"You want to know why I want to wear the shoes?" he asked, grinning.

I nodded.

"Ok…" he cleared his throat and looked at them quizzically, "I was wearing them the first time Mom told me I should ask the new girl out. Her exact words were 'You better ask that girl out or I'll do it for you,'" I laughed. He continued. "Then I said 'You better not, she already thinks I'm a loser,'" I grabbed his hand and giggled.

"Then we got into the car," he sighed.

I looked at the shoes again. "They're good shoes," I conceded.

"I can go and get my game shoes if you want?" he said turning to kiss the top of my head.

"No," I said quickly. "Don't be stupid. Games shoes are for games only,"

He chuckled.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too,"

* * *

The End.

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_Love you guys!! Ta ta for now!!_

_PS: I expect everyone who has been reading to give this chapter one review! Yes, that's right even those silent readers out there! THAT MEANS YOU "points scarily at the screen"_


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